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BY THE WAY 

Travel Letters Written 

During Several Journeys Abroad 

Describing Sojourns in England, Scotland, Ireland 

France, Germany, Austria-Hungary 

Italy, Greece, and European 

AND Asiatic Turkey 

BY 

AGNESS GREENE FOSTER 

Author of 

**You & Some Others" 

"A Royal Road" 

** Blessings" 

Etc. 

Illustrated 



PAUL ELDER & COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS . . . SAN FRANCISCO 



> 



<x 



?A 



^ ^ 



REVISED AND ENLARGED 
EDITION 

New material has been added in this edition 
including sojourns in Turkey, Greece, Austria- 
Hungary and Germany. While not intended in 
any way as a guide-book, this volume will be 
found especially helpful to those contemplating a 
first journey across the Atlantic. Attention is called 
to the list of pensions and to the bibliography. 

Copy rig At y 1903 
iy Agness Greene Foster 

Copy rig At f 1 9 10 
by Paul Elder and Company 



©CI.A^65566 



The Author's Apology 



MY DEAR : 

"When at the first I took my pen in hand 
Thus for to write, I did not understand 
That I at all should make a little book 
In such a mode ; nay, I had undertook 
To make another, which, when almost done. 
Before I was aware I this begun. 
, . . But yet I DID not think 
To show to all the world my pen and ink 
In such a mode; I only thought to make — 

I KNEW NOT WHAT I NOR DID I UNDERTAKE 

Thereby to please my neighbor ; no, not I, 

I DID IT mine own self TO GRATIFY." 

And thus it was, one bright September day. 
Full suddenly I finished **By The Way." 



Ill 



CONTENTS 

Page 

The Author's Apology iii 

By Way of Preamble ix 

Part I 

England 3 

Scotland 28 

Ireland 34 

Italy 51 

Switzerland '93 

Holland and Belgium 105 

Part II 

Greece 115 

Turkey 120 

Hungary. . . 129 

Austria 132 

Germany . . .134 

France 137 

IscHiA 162 

Index of Places 171 

Index of Authors and Books 177 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Facing 
Page 

Castello Mezzatorre Title 

Lime Walk, Oxford lo 

National Gallery, London, fronting Trafalgar Square . . . l6 

Ventnor ^ \ . ao ' 

Tennyson's House f 

Shanklin, Isle of Wight \ 2,2 

Street in Bonchurch j 

Stoke-Poges, where Gray's ''Elegy" was written . . . 24 

National Gallery, Edinburgh, Castle on Hill in background . 30 

Dryburgh Abbey, where Sir Walter Scott is buried ... 32 

Dunluce Castle 3^ 

Trinity College, Dublin 4^ 

Old Steps and Sea Wall, Capri 54 

Isola di Capri * 5^ 

Amalfi 58 

Street Scene, Naples 60 

The Pincian Hill, Rome _ . . 68 

Stanza della Segnatura, Vatican Palace, Rome 74 

Piazza della Signoria, Florence 82 

Stairway Bargello Palace, Florence 84 

The Grand Canal, Venice 86 

Lake Maggiore, Isola Bella, Italy 92 

Amsterdam 106 

Ship Canal cut across the Isthmus of Corinth 116 

The Acropolis as It Was \ o 
The Acropolis as It Is ) 

Landing at Smyrna 1 20 

Constantinople , . 122 

The Galata Bridge, Constantinople 126 

Modern Nurnberg ") r 

Old Nurnberg J ^ 

Rue de Rivoli, showing Tuileries Gardens 140 

Bois de Vincennes "( 
Chateau d'Amboise J 

Campo Santo, Genoa 156 

Valley of the Rhone 

Corniche Road between Nice and Monaco 

Chateau d'lf 

Almeria, Spain 



} .... 158 
I 160 



Vll 



BTWAT 
OF PREAMBLE 

Ah me^ ah mcy that I should be 
So torn by my inconstancy ; 
I fain ivould go — / tarry so, 
But see the ivorld, I must — heigh-ho. 

WASHINGTON: 

/NDEED, and in truths one is rarely natural 
save under deep emotions. After all my 
resolutions and determinations^ I found I was 
not able to part from those I love with any 
degree of composure. 

I assure you that I did not stay composed 
very long^for as the cruel train pulled out, 
and I saWy through a mist of tears, that dear 
form fade from sight, I broke down, and re- 
mained ^^down^ all the afternoon and eve- 
ning. With this morning s bright sunshine, 
however, I am a man (? ) again. 

'The first sound I heard this morning was, 
^^Here's a message for you, Miss^' and 
straightway that porter s name goes rattling 
down the rocky road of history as a discern- 
ing and right-minded person. What married 
woman of, well, let' s say thirty, does not enjoy 

ix 



BT WAT OF PREAMBLE 

being called "Miss'' ? But to go back to my 
telegram, — it served as my dejeuner a la 
felicite. From that moment I was happy, 
and peace has taken possession of me since the 
coming of that dear message, 

PHILADELPHIA: 

rHE SHIP was so white and clean, and I 
was so pleased over our stateroom, that 
I forgot for a moment the big lump in my 
throat; but I do not understand why people 
allow those near and dear to them to come to 
see them off. Nothing could "have kept me 
on that boat had my nearest and dearest 
been standing on the dock, 

Ruth and Suzanne are here at last, 
I am sending these lines hack with the pilot, 
I wish he were to take me instead of the 
letter. 

How I envy it I 

ON BOARD SHIP: 

rHERE has been no writing on hoard this 
ship for the past four days, and very little 
sleeping, and less eating. Every one seemed 
sick except Ruth, a few of the men and my- 
self, l^hose of us who were able to crawl up 
on deck were lashed to our steamer chairs 
and the chairs lashed to the deck, 

X 



BT WAT OF PREAMBLE 

^he pilot left at six in the evening. Every 
one on board rushed to the side to see the 
sailors lower him into his little boatj and I 
watched him as far as the eye could seCy 
for he carried with him my last message to 
you. 

We no sooner struck the breakwater than 
the ship began to rollj and the tossing has 
continued for four days without cessation^for 
we are following in the wake of a storm. 

Ton asked me to tell you every little detail 
of life on board ship, Tou little know the 
task you set me ; and right here I desire to 
put myself on record as begging the pardon 
of all writers on this subject for my unkind 
thoughts of them. I see now^ after only five 
days on shipboard^ why all descriptions are so 
unsatisfactory to those who have never ex- 
perienced a voyage. 

In the first place J the word ^^ deck^^ is most 
inadequate. One naturally thinks that a deck 
is an open space on the top of a ship^ similar 
to that of a river steamboat, 'The decks are 
in reality wide piazzas — when the sea is 
quiet. On them the passengers congregate — 
when all is well with them and with the 
elements, I say ^^up on deck,'^ when it is only 
^^out on the verandah Flights of easy stairs 
connect the various floors, These stairs are 

xi 



BT WAY OF PREAMBLE 

dancing continually, but one soon gets used to 
it if one has his ^^ sea legs" and usually ar- 
rives safely, ^his ship is similar to an oval 
house of several stories, with galleries or 
verandas running completely around each 
story, and any number of basements and sub- 
basements; but with these we have nothing 
to do. 

As I crossed the gangplank I landed on 
the saloon deck and entered the only door on 
that side, I found myself in a squall hallway, 
out of which opened the ladies^ saloon and 
the writing-rooms, and from which the stairs 
descend to the floor where the dining-room 
and most of the berths are situated. My 
stateroom is on the top story, so I have only 
to step from our hallway on to the main 
deck, 

J read the description which I have just 
written to the captain, and I wish you could 
have heard him shout. He begged me to per- 
mit his ^^ tiger '^ to make a copy of it for him, 
and I did, but I was sorry the moment it left 
my hands, for I know it is most absurd, and it 
was intended for you only. Nevertheless, I'll 
venture the assertion that those who know 
will readily see the pi5iure, and those who do 
not know will get a pretty good idea of how 
a ship looks, 

xii 



BT WAT OF PREAMBLE 

MID-ATLANTIC: 

rpvERT one is out today y and as it is coldy 
J—^ the entire saloon deck is lined with a 
much-wrapped, many-rugged assembly, whose 
chairs are fastened to the house-side of the 
deck, while those who have their sea legs are 
marching to and fro in front of the line of 
chairs, 'The deck steward has the chairs 
placed for us each morning on the side free 
from the winds. Most of the time these past 
days I have been sitting in my chair looking 
at my feet, first with the sea and then with 
the sky, as a background, 

OFF QUEENSTOWN: 
y^H, BLESSED day I We saw land for .a few 
^ moments, and I have your dear letters — 
two happy events, I ran away with my 
letters and have written answers to them 
which are for your eyes alone, That reminds 
me to say, that I think it would be better for 
me to write on one sheet of paper a wee bit 
of a letter to you, telling you a few of the 
many nice things I think of you, but which will 
interest no one but you. On another sheet I 
will tell of the places I see and the people I 
meet,and this you may send to the friends who 
are self-sacrificing enough to say they would 
like to read about this little journey of mine, 

xiii 



Br WAT OF PREAMBLE 

I found on this ship the usual number of 
wise — and otherwise — passengers^ a few of 
whom are most interesting, Mr, and NLrs, 
P., of Philadelphia^ who are well-known 
philanthropists; an Englishman^ whose care 
and attention to an invalid wife and child 
forever clear his countrymen from the con- 
tumely of indifference to their families ; Airs, 
F. and her son ; and a most charming Cana- 
dian gentleman^ who has made the voyage a 
delight for us, 

Ruth and I are seated at the right and 
left of the dear old captain, 'The table is 
served bountifully ^ and the viands are deli- 
cious. We really try not to ask too many ques- 
tions^ but I fancy our endeavors are a failure • 
Were I a captain of one of these ocean liner s^ 
Fd have something like the following hung 
in each stateroom^ along with ^^How to put 
on this life-preserver when drowning,^* 

First. 'This ship is fireproof waterproof y 
and mal de mer proof 

Second, We will positively land on the 

day of 5 or on the next day^ or surely the 

next, 

'Third, The captain is (or is not) married^ 
as the case may be. (I should advise that 
it be written ^Us** in either case, to save 
trouble,) 

xiv 



BT WAY OF PREAMBLE 

'T'hese liners carry much freight^ and are 
slow^ taking usually nine days for the ocean 
voyage^ which together with the day down 
the Delaware^ another up the channel^ and 
the delay caused by the storm^ will keep us 
on board thirteen days. It is because of the 
slow speed and the limited number of passen- 
gers that this line is patronized by such a 
delightful class of people who go chiefly for 
the quiet obtained on the sea. 

ST. GEORGE'S CHANNEL: 
" T^LOATiNG around in my ink-pot^' are 
■T many things which I intend to tell you 
some day^ but with the unsteady condition 
of this writing-table^ not now. fust a word 
today about my fellow-travelers. 

Mrs. F.y of Boston, reminds me of the 
Arabian proverb : ^^He who knows not, and 
knows not that he knows not, is a fool; shun 
him. He who knows not, and knows that he 
knows not, is simple; teach him. He who 
knows, and knows not that he knows, is 
asleep; wake him. He who knows, and 
knows that he knows, is wise; follow him.'' 

Mrs. F. is one whom I should be willing 
to follow. She has with her an invalid son, 
who looks older than she. She did not appear 
on deck for many days, and kept entirely to 

XV 



BT WAT OF PREAMBLE 

herself. She came up one of those days when I 
was alone on the deck, Joe^ our deck steward^ 
placed us in Ruth's two chairs^ one of which 
she had just vacated, while he and the lady s 
servant fetched our chairs. When the chairs 
appeared they were identical, and with the 
same initials on them. Joe knew mine well, 
and the lady s servant knew hers. As the 
chairs were brought neither of us spoke ^ but 
our eyes met and we laughed. 

After a few moments, "/ wonder,^* said 
she, " if they are spelled the same, tooT "/ 
doubt it^' I replied, '^hat was all. 'The ser- 
vants stared in wonder and left. She smiles 
and bows each time we meet, and I must con- 
fess V d like to know what her given name 
is. On the sailing list it is Mrs. TVilburn 

Godfrey F and maid, and Mr. W, G, 

F and servant. 

We missed the tide, so the boat will not 
be able to land us at the dock, but instead, 
we shall be compelled to go in on the tender, 
which is approaching in the distance. 



XVI 



Part I. 



This other Eden, de mi-par a dis e ; 
This fortress built by nature for herself 
Against infection and the hand of war; 
This happy breed of men, this little world. 
This precious stone set in the silver sea, 

Shakspere, Richard II, 
AQ. II, Scene i, Line 42. 



ENGLAND 

Oh^ to be in England 

Noiv that ApriVs there ^ 

jdnd ivhoe'ver ivakes in England 

Sees, some morning, unaivare, 

That the lowest boughs and the brush-ivood sheaf 

Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, 

While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough 

In England^ now ! ^^^^^^^ Browning. 

LIVERPOOL : 

TTTE LANDED at eleven o^clock and I went 
^^ immediately and sent a cable to you. 
In the paying for it — my first money trans- 
adion in England — I was given too little 
change, which stamps me fresh from Amer- 
ica and not up in shillings, pence, and ha'- 
pennies. 

The contents of our letters made it nec- 
essary to change some of our plans. A 
telegram to Ruth from Lady S , com- 
pelling her to go north for a few days, will 
separate us for a time. Ruth begged me 
to accompany her, but my plans lead else- 
where, so this merry family of ours parts 
to meet (?) 

You are a very satisfac5tory sort of corre- 
spondent, for you bid me tell how one 



BY THE WAY 

should go to London from Liverpool, what 
to see and any little details not known to 
the stranger, not forgetting the necessary- 
expenses. Ruth has been here many times, 
and knows every spot of interest, and she 
has mapped out a route for me to take un- 
til she can join me. 

After going through the Customs, which, 
by the way, is easier in European countries 
than in America, we started at once for 
London, via the Great Western Railway. 
Speaking of the Customs, they have sort 
of aisles, in which the trunks are arranged, 
and one is not allowed to enter until all is 
ready. Hanging in conspicuous places are 
the letters of the alphabet, and a man at 
the door asks your name, and you are di- 
redied to the proper aisle. The officer first 
looks you over, then says: "Have you any 
spirits'* (not ghosts, but liquors), "cigars, 
or English copyrighted books?" I an- 
swered, "No," of course, and the blue 
chalk mark was placed on my luggage 
without further question, after which a 
splendid porter was called to carry it to my 
carriage. 

The woman behind me, too, said "No," 
just as I did, but she, it seems, had a man 
all her own, and the officer said. 



ENGLAND 

" I will have to trouble you to open the 
trunks for me/* 

Apparently the Customs officers have a 
way of finding out things, and I wish you 
could have seen the contents of those 
trunks! There were bottles and bottles, 
and cigars and tobacco — everything but 
books. That was the first time I was sorry 

my name began with , for had it been 

otherwise I should have been spared the 
sight of the discomfort of that poor woman. 

As I was leaving, the second officer said 
to her, "Please call your husband, madam," 
Now, how do you suppose they knew she 
had a husband with her? 

Oh, dear 1 Oh, dear ! That ocean seems, 
somehow, awfully wide today with you on 
the other side. 

CHESTER : 

WE PURCHASED in Liverpool an "Amer- 
ican tourists* stop-over ticket,** over 
what is known as the " Garden Route,** for 
16/6, which, being interpreted, signifies 
sixteen shillings and sixpence, or slightly 
over four dollars. 

We are at The Blossoms, an inn over 
four hundred years old. We have been to 
Hawarden Castle, the beautiful home of 



BY THE WAY 

the late Mr. Gladstone. It is in Wales, 
but five miles from here. On our return 
we visited Eaton Hall, the magnificent 
"place" of the Duke of Westminster. 

Chester is one of the oldest towns in 
England, and some of the old Roman wall, 
built over one thousand years ago, is yet 
standing. The " Old Rows," two-story 
shops, with some above and some below 
the sidewalk, are quaint. The beautiful 
drive is called the " Roodee," a contra6tion 
of the French word rue and the River 
Dee, on the banks of which the old town 
is situated. Here is a cathedral which pre- 
sents every style of English mediaeval 
architedlure, from the early Norman to the 
last Perpendicular. 

I count this a remarkable day. I have 
seen my first English cathedral, my first 
English estate, and have stood, for the 
first time, in the cloisters of an abbey. 

LEAMINGTON: 

T T 7E ARRIVED at Leamington at " ten to 
^^ five" last evening. The people of 
the Manor House were expe6ling us, as 
we had written from Chester. We chose 
this inn from our guide-book, and because 
it had a garden. I have learned that, in 

6 



ENGLAND 

England, when in doubt about an inn, 
"lead" with a garden, and you will rarely 
make a mistake. 

This has been a damp journey so far. 
The rain began in Chicago, and has kept 
pace with me all the way. Notwithstand- 
ing, we strolled, after tea, over the little 
spa and a good five miles of beautiful 
meadow to Guy*s Cliff, the handsome 
countryseat of Lord Percy, and back in 
time for eight o'clock table d'hote. The 
number of times these English cousins of 
ours eat is remarkable. They breakfast 
anywhere from eight to eleven, lunch from 
twelve to four, have tea always at five, and 
dinner from eight to eleven at night. 

This morning, at eight, dressed in our 
short walking skirts and heavy boots, with 
every warm garment we possess under our 
jackets, we started for Warwick. It was 
bitterly cold — but — did you ever see a 
castle ? 

I have! Today! 

Imagine me standing outside the castle 
wall, gazing up in silent awe. This wall 
is one hundred and twenty-five i^^t high 
and ten feet thick, built around a square 
of two miles, the gray walls of the castle 
itself forming one side of the square. 

7 



BY THE WAY 

I wonder if other people are moved to 
tears by grandeur in nature or in art ? Do 
you recall how the tears would come the 
day I caught my first glimpse of the Pa- 
cific Ocean from Mt. Lowe? So today, 
while others were "ohing" and "ahing," 
I was dumb with joy; and if I have said 
once, I have said a hundred times, " If you 
were only here to enjoy it with me!" 

As we left the embattled gateway we 
passed through a road deeply cut out of 
the solid rock, the walls of which were 
covered with vines. A sudden turn brought 
us abruptly into the vast open court, when 
there burst upon our vision a fortress, 
mighty and magnificent, and this was War- 
wick Castle! No matter how many em- 
battled castles you see, the one seen first 
will be stamped forever upon your mem- 
ory, and I hope it will be beautiful War- 
wick. We were shown through the state 
apartments, but they were as nothing com- 
pared with my first glimpse of the massive 
fortress of the feudal barons of Warwick — - 
the old king-makers. After dinner we 
drove to Kenilworth and viewed the stately 
ruins by moonlight. 



8 



ENGLAND 
STRATFORD-ON-AVON : 

THE sun shone today, and it was a wel- 
come sight. We came here to rest 
over the Sabbath, and we have wandered 
over the simple old town to all the haunts 
of the poet, where we met Americans, 
Germans, Frenchmen, Italians — all doing 
him honor. As we walked "Across the 
:field to Ann" in the twilight, I recalled 
Dr. Richard Burton*s beautiful poem of 
that title. 

OXFORD: 

THACKERAY was Certainly right when he 
said of Oxford, " It is a delight to 
enter, but despair to leave." Should you 
ask me to tell you candidly how long one 
should remain in Oxford in order to see 
it perfedly, I should reply, "A lifetime." 
It is charming. Of course the college 
buildings, with their quads and cloisters, 
the churches, the Sheldonian Theater and 
Bodleian Library, are all teeming with 
historic interest, but it is the beauty of the 
outdoor part of Oxford — of all England, 
in fad — that most appeals to me. Well 
may this be called the "Garden Route," for 
all nature is alive with flowers and foliage, 
with green of all shades, and odors sweeter 



BY THE WAY 

than honey. Everything here is freely 
accessible to the visitor. No wonder the 
English women are good walkers. One 
cannot see the beauties of these glorious 
gardens, both public and private, unless 
one walks miles, as I have this day. 



I 



WINDSOR: 

HAVE been repaid a thousandfold for 
that awful ocean voyage. The massive 
walls of Windsor Castle are just outside 
my window, and as I write, I count ten 
guards abreast upon them. It is the 
Queen's birthday, " God bless her ! " 

I was up with the lark and entered the 
embattled gateway as soon as it was open 
to visitors. The terraces, the grand par- 
terre, the royal stables, St. George's Chapel 
where the royal marriages are celebrated,, 
the State Apartments, the Round Tower, 
and Albert Memorial Chapel — all, all are 
beyond my power of description. It was 
with difficulty that I tore myself away, 
bade good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. W., 
caught the train for Paddington Station, 
reached London in time to take a cab ta 
my bankers, where I found your blessed 
letters, and then went to my new home. 



lO 




o r 
o w 

r 



ENGLAND 
LONDON: 

T AWRENCE HuTTON says : " London has 
-*— ' no associations so interesting as those 
conneded with its literary men." I do not 
entirely agree with him. 

Not half has been told of dear, delight- 
ful, dirty, dreary London. I should be the 
last person to call her dreary, for she put 
on her best behavior for me, and the sun 
shone nearly every day those first weeks. 
It was June: 

*' And what is so rare as a day in June ? " 

You will remember that the American 
statesman-poet wrote the poem containing 
this line in London. 

The first and last place to visit in Lon- 
don is Westminster Abbey. The church 
is in the form of a Latin cross, and the 
poets' corner is in the south transept, a 
wing off the organ-room. When you enter 
it, you seem to be in a chapel with pews 
and an altar like any place of worship, but 
it appears to grow larger as one continues 
to gaze. The walls and every available 
space are filled with marble busts or bas- 
reliefs. 

It is worthy of note that Longfellow is 
the only American whose bust adorns the 

1 1 



BY THE WAY 

poets* corner. There is a service of song 
here every afternoon at four, and the har- 
mony of those sweet voices is yet ringing 
in my ears. 

The Houses of Parliament are across 
the street from the Abbey. They contain 
over a thousand apartments, more than a 
hundred staircases, and a dozen courts. 
The art in these buildings rivals anything 
of the kind in the world. The paintings, 
sculptures, and the mosaic pavements are 
beautiful. They are open to the public 
only on Saturdays, from ten to four. 

One should take a boat from the Tower 
Bridge to get the view of the Parliament 
buildings from the river, and sail away 
down past the embankment, where are 
many of the finest hotels. 

There are some beautiful water trips 
about London. One particularly pleasant 
is from London Bridge to Kew. If you 
have time, stop at Chelsea and see the 
home of Carlyle, which is now fitted up as 
a memorial and open to visitors. Go on 
to Kew, where you disembark and take a 
char-a-bancs^ or the top of an omnibus, to 
Hampton Court and walk through the 
grounds. 

To me one of the greatest delights of 

12 



ENGLAND 

London is Hyde Park. I cannot under- 
stand why one hears so much about Paris 
and so httle of London. Hyde Park is to 
London what the Tuileries are to Paris, 
and the marble arch at the Vidloria Street 
entrance, eredied by George the Fourth, 
is as beautiful as the Arc de Triomphe, 
while the massive archway and iron gates 
at the Piccadilly end are imposing. One 
gets the best idea of Hyde Park by taking 
a 'bus at Piccadilly Circus — and, by the 
by, do you know what Piccadilly Circus is? 
Well, it is only a street, or rather a widen- 
ing of the place where Regent Street ends 
and where Piccadilly turns west. Picca- 
dilly itself is a prominent street, but only 
about half a mile in length, beginning at 
Haymarket and ending at Hyde Park. 

To go back to Hyde Park — I repeat, 
take a 'bus at Piccadilly Circus, ride to Kens- 
ington Gore, and walk back through Kens- 
ington Gardens, past the Albert Memorial 
and the marble statue of the Queen, done 
by her daughter, Princess Louise. One is 
obliged to walk, as carriages are not allowed 
in Kensington Gardens, and there is no 
other way to see the beauty of the rare old 
trees, the fountains, the lakes, the bridges 
and the glorious array of blossoms. Try 

13 



BY THE WAY 

to get to Rotton Row in Hyde Park by- 
four, for at that time the "drive'* begins, 
and one may see London's lords and ladies 
at their best. 

Another delightful day may be spent in 
St. James' Park. Aim to arrive there for 
the "guard mount," at nine each morning, 
and if you go on a Wednesday, and the 
King and Queen happen not to be in town, 
you may be shown through the palace. 

Make a day of the Crystal Palace at 
Norwood. If you cannot take the conti- 
nental trip, a very good idea of the works 
of art of Switzerland, Germany, France 
and Italy may be obtained in this "minia- 
ture world," as the Crystal Palace is some- 
times called. 

You should go to the theaters, and go 
some time when they do not "book stalls." 
This experience is apt to test your dispo- 
sition. The Haymarket Theater, for in- 
stance, does not book seats on Saturday 
afternoons and the highest priced seat is 
but four shillings. It seemed strange that 
Ruth insisted on our lunching so early the 
Saturday we were to attend, but I thought 
the performance began at twelve like 
the Wagnerian cycles at Covent Garden. 
When I saw the pretty, well-behaved 

14 



ENGLAND 

young women sitting there in line on 
camp-stools, it struck me as very funny. 
I lost my " place " time after time stepping 
out to gaze at them. There were few men 
present, and the low voices of the women 
never rose high or shrill when arguing 
about their right to a place. 

But best and most fascinating of all is 
the National Gallery, and after that the 
British Museum. I like the English school 
of art: Landseer, Turner, Reynolds, Ho- 
garth and Gainsborough. 

If I could have but one pi<51:ure, and 
that of my own choosing, I'd take, without 
hesitation, Landseer's "A Distinguished 
Member of the Royal Humane Society,'* 
not because the largest crowd is always 
before it, nor because the easel space is full 
with artists copying it, but because it ap- 
peals to my heart. One should go several 
times to the National Gallery that the 
knowledge gained may be properly di- 
gested. On the first visit especially, a 
guide should be taken. 

BOURNE END: 

T HAVE had a most delightful opportunity 
-*- to see something of the country life of 
England, and one that the casual traveler 

15 



BY THE WAY 

cannot experience, unless she has friends 
living here. It was on a house-boat at 
Bourne End, and the memory of that 
charming week will live long after paint- 
ings and sculptures have faded from my 
mind. It was the last week in June. The 
Thames was in gala dress for the boat 
races, and the banks were lined with house- 
boats — veritable bowers of plants and 
blossoms — ready for the Henley regatta. 
These house -boats are really flatboats 
supporting summer cottages. They are 
seldom moved except for the races, and 
are then towed up the Thames to Henley 
or Oxford by little tugs. 

The scene is one of unsurpassed love- 
liness — the banks lined with these floating 
bowers, the water dotted with thousands 
of small boats each flying some college 
colors, the fresh-looking English maidens 
in holiday array, the stalwart fellows in 
white duck, the bands of music, the gaiety 
and flowers — flowers everywhere. If you 
have read the description of an Oxford 
regatta in "The Handsome Humes," you 
will agree with me, I am sure. 

Sj» Sj» J^ ti$i •$• ^ 

I shall not soon forget those who have 
been faithful and have written me every 

i6 



ENGLAND 

little while. No one knows, save those 
who have experienced it, what a letter 
means to one traveling in a strange country. 
I am having the desire of my life. Every 
one is lovely to me. I am seeing pi6lur- 
esque England, literary England and his- 
torical England. I am having an ideally 
perfed: time amid elegance and luxury, yet 
you can little realize the courage it takes 
not to throw the whole thing up and go 
home. I feel as though I'd like to gallop — 
run is too tame — right off to the docks 
and take the first thing that crosses that 
big ocean. Never fear, though; I'm going 
to brave it out, and I'll be a better and a 
wiser woman in consequence of it. 



H 



LONDON, July Fourth; 

URRAH for the red, white, and blue! 
The dear maid brought me eleven 
letters, each with a little flag on it, and 
each intended to reach me this day. 

Ruth and I took two young American 
girls with us to the Ambassador's reception 
this afternoon at four. 

There is a spirit of patriotism in the 
breast of social leaders which perhaps is 
seldom equaled by those in the humbler 
walks of life. The firing of gunpowder in 

17 



BY THE WAY 

its various forms, the drinking of all sorts 
and conditions of drinks, the noise of the 
numerous and senseless yells on our na- 
tion's natal day, do not necessarily stamp 
the doer with boundless national love. 

When one is far from one's native land 
the feeling of love for that home land is 
of too deep and sacred a nature to admit 
of jocular demonstrations. I saw society 
today with statesmen and men of letters 
and foreign representatives at the Ambas- 
sador's reception, and the heart swelled 
with patriotic emotion, and many eyes 
were moist with tears as some one unfurled 
the Stars and Stripes, while the band 
played the Star-spangled Banner. All this 
was done without sound of any sort, save 
the sweet strains of the music, or the 
deeper drawing of the breath, and yet the 
men of other nations uncovered their heads 
in respedlful acknowledgment of the fad: 
that they stood before the representatives 
of the truest and most patriotic country 
on earth. 

:!: Ht ^ :|: H: H: 

So many things crowd to the place where 
the gray matter should be that I gasp for 
breath. I wonder if every woman who 
comes over here is possessed with the 

l8 



ENGLAND 

wild desire to write letters. I go to places 
now, that I may tell you about them, and 
am uneasy until I reach my little sky-par- 
lor in order to begin the telling. 
, Can I ever make you understand how 
much, how very much, I appreciate all the 
delights you are making it possible for me 
to enjoy? Were I to be stricken blind 
and deaf, and then live a thousand years, 
I have enough of beauty of color, of 
sound and of fragrance to enable me to 
live happily through it all. And yet, I am 
going to say, " I told you so." 

You never did so unwise a thing as to 
induce me to bring those trunks. We have 
discarded them, and have each purchased 
an English " hold-all " and a dress basket. 
This last we send to the place where we 
are to be at the week's end, and there we 
are laundered, and away it goes to our 
next resting-place. 

I find that one can get her linen washed 
quickly, cheaply and well in all parts of 
England. You give your soiled clothes, 
with a thru'pence, to your maid at night, 
and you will find them at your door, along 
with your shoes, in the morning — shoes 
and all having been thoroughly washed. 

There is a system of " carted luggage " 

19 



BY THE WAY 

here by which one may send any large 
piece of luggage that can be locked (it 
will not be taken otherwise) from one's 
door and find it in one's room at the hotel 
or lodgings in the next city. The cost is 
nominal. Unless one comes to visit or for 
social duties, only the bare necessities 
should be taken. Other articles are an extra 
bother and expense. We have learned, too, 
to write in advance, in time for a reply, 
before venturing to hotels or lodgings. 
Women unaccompanied by men do not 
receive the best attention in Europe un- 
less "expedted." 

FRESHWATER, ISLE OF WIGHT: 
TN COMING to the Isle of Wight we jour- 
-■- neyed from London to Portsmouth by 
rail, and from Portsmouth to Ryde by 
boat across the Solent. The Spithead, as 
this part of the Solent is called, is the naval 
rendezvous of the world. Portsmouth har- 
bor is filled with historic interest. It is 
here that Nelson's famous flagship Vi^lory, 
now a schoolship, is anchored. Off to the 
northward are many basins lined with fac- 
tories. A monstrous floating bridge carries 
multitudes of passengers and vehicles, and 
the smaller ferries and boats of every 

20 



^j'W^fe'^^^J^^a-SSg^i^ 




VENTNOR 
TENNYSON'S HOUSE 



ENGLAND 

description make a wonderful scene of 
adivity. 

The ride was all too short. It seemed 
but a moment until we were stepping from 
the boat into the train at Ryde which was 
to carry us the entire length of the island 
to Freshwater, twenty-three miles away. 

We arrived at Freshwater at sunset just 
as the bells were ringing for vespers, and 
we walked with the country folk the half 
mile from the station to the inn. Stopping 
long enough to leave our bags and wraps, 
we continued across the meadows to Far- 
ringford, the beautiful home of Tennyson. 
This was the realization of one of my 
cherished desires. 

The house possesses no architectural 
pretensions, but is singularly attradive. It 
is a long, low, rambling strud:ure abso- 
lutely covered with creeping vines. I sat 
in Tennyson^s chair, held his pen, leaned 
on his desk and touched the books he 
loved. This was a privilege because the 
public is not admitted since the young Lord 
Tennyson has taken up his residence there. 

Afterwards, I stood on the rustic bridge 
where Tennyson often stood to watch the 
sea, seen far away through the trees. I 
sat in the bower where he wrote " Enoch 

21 



BY THE WAY 

Arden," and strolled along the lanes which 
wind over the three hundred acres com- 
prising the estate. 

It was with difficulty that I dragged 
myself away from this restful spot, but I 
hope that I caught a bit of the inspiration 
that he found there. 

Another day from the top of a coach we 
saw the beautiful country through which 
we had been whirled at dusk some days 
before. We drove to the rocks at the 
" bottom of the island/* called the Needles; 
we wound through the cluster of cottages 
forming the village of Freshwater — then 
on we went through a succession of flow- 
ers on the hillside, flowers in the valleys, 
flowers by the sea, for the Isle of Wight 
is composed of blossoms and all the vari- 
ations of green, with ever the blue sea as 
a background. 

We had our tea in the garden of the 
little inn which nestles under the wall of 
Carisbrooke Castle. After we had climbed 
to its tower for the view and had returned 
to earth again, we continued on to New- 
port and Ventnor. 

If you ever arrive at that part of Vent- 
nor called "Bonchurch,'* stay there. Who- 
ever named it must have been color-blind. 

22 




SHANKLIN,ISLE OF WIGHT 
STREET IN BONCHURCH 



ENGLAND 

We are told that heaven signifies harmony, 
and that " naught save what is good and 
fair and beautiful can enter there," and 
Bonchurch is all of that. It is an en- 
chanted fairyland and the traveler will go 
far afield before he finds its equal. 

If you must leave Bonchurch, walk 
across the downs to Shanklin, catch the 
coach for Cowes and you will have trav- 
ersed the length and breadth of the island, 
that is, from Ryde to Freshwater Bay and 
from Ventnor to Cowes. 

Cowes has its Osborne House and its 
royal regatta. It was a bank holiday and 
"all the world was on its feet," but that 
did not prevent us from enjoying Queen 
Vidtoria's favorite home. The house itself 
suggests a stately country home rather 
than a palace. Its chief attrac5tion is the 
view from the dining-room windows, which 
give on a terraced garden leading down to 
a sea front of one mile and a half. 

The Solent was a maze of beflagged 
boats that day — the day of the regatta. 
The King and Queen passed in review on 
the royal yacht, and the new Shamrock was 
easily recognized by its emerald green 
colorings among the array of naval splen- 
dor in gala attire. 

23 



BY THE WAY 
STOKE POGES: 

A DELIGHTFULLY rcstful day has been 
'^ spent at Stoke Poges, in that peaceful 
old churchyard which inspired Gray*s 
Elegy. The whole place remains the same 
as in the poet's time — 1717? except 
" Yon ivy-mantled tower," which has been 
spoiled by a modern spire. But the ivy 
refuses to "mantle" it, and with strange 
perverseness stops at the tower, leaving 
the spire bare and "unloved" by the vine. 
As you sit under the yew tree where 
Gray sat and dreamed, you will realize the 
significance of his immortal lines : 

* * Full many a gem of purest ray serene 

The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear: 
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen. 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air." 

The scenery along the Thames Valley, 
from London to Slough, is pleasing. On 
leaving the train at Slough, one finds all 
sorts of carriages waiting to carry one to 
Stoke Poges, and on to Burnham Beeches. 

LAKESIDE, WINDERMERE, 
WEST VIEW VILLAS : 

'E LEFT London, St. Pancras Station, 
via the Midland Railway, stopping 
en route at Chesterfield long enough to see 

24 



W^ 




i-gsis©.^^^ 



5 C " 5« 5 ^ 



ENGLAND 

the " Twisted Tower " of the cathedral. It 
was built in the fourteenth century, and 
the book says, "A curious twist to the 
spire was caused by the warping of the 
wood." The poor ignorant people say it 
was the devil. It is very odd, whatever 
did it. 

We left the train at Leeds to see the 
ruins of Kirkstall Abbey, catching the next 
through train by driving to Skipton, and 
here began the most picturesque scenery I 
have found in England. 

The valley of Craven consists of mead- 
ows similar to those of Chester and War- 
wick, but they are softer and greener ; the 
same hedges, but darker, higher, and more 
velvety. The woods behind them set them 
off to advantage, and here and there, spark- 
ling in the sunlight, are little lakes. The 
winding white roads and beautiful roses 
are everywhere. We passed a canon cut 
in the rocks, with cliffs as high as one can 
see, then the blue hills of Cumberland 
burst on our vision. 

This mountain region, called the Eng- 
lish Lake Distrid, is said by the English 
to be the most beautiful spot in the Brit- 
ish Isles, but the Scotch and the Irish each 
claim the same superlative. I shall see 

25 



BY THE WAY 

them all, and shall give you an unpreju- 
diced opinion, but certain it is that within 
these limits lies a wealth of scenery not to 
be very far surpassed anywhere. 

Have you the slightest idea what an 
English meadow is like ? I had not, until 
today. This one has hills on either side 
with the clear blue Windermere at their 
feet. The white roads wind in and out, 
with this cluster of villas all covered with 
roses, and an old rustic bridge near by. I 
am writing this in the sweetest and cleanest 
of rooms, from the window of which I see 
the purple hills in the west and the sun 
just sinking behind them. 

EN ROUTE : 

npHE sail on Lake Windermere was 
"*■ delightful. The boat touched at a 
number of picturesque places once fre- 
quented by Scott, Wordsworth, Shelley 
and Southey, landing us at Ambleside 
about ten in the morning. Here the coach 
was waiting to take us on one of the love- 
liest drives in Great Britain. All the way 
we glided over the same smooth roads, 
with mountains on one side and Lake 
Grasmere at our feet. We visited the cot- 
tage where Wordsworth lived, the one in 

26 



ENGLAND 

which Coleridge died, and the home of 
Harriet Martineau. What wonder that 
these dear people wrote so poetically ! One 
must find expression for one's dreams in 
this land of beauty. 

We reached Keswick just in time to 
board the train for Penrith, where we 
changed for Carlisle. Here we took time to 
visit the old castle and the really fine cathe- 
dral before leaving for Melrose, Scotland. 

w w ^ % ^ 46" 

It is a mistaken idea that the English 
people sneer at or slight Americans. Every 
well-informed Englishman acknowledges 
the United States to be the most progress- 
ive nation on earth. Everything Ameri- 
can is sought after, and American ideas 
command the highest price. 

I have found the better class of English 
the most charming of people, and their 
hospitality knows no limit. My stay here, 
away from my native land, has been one 
bright dream of pleasure, made so particu- 
larly by a dear old English couple, and 
by the family on the house-boat. 

And now, good-bye, bright, fragrant and 
flowery England! 



27 



SCOTLAND 

I canna thole my ain toun, sin* I hae divelt /"' this^ 
To bide in Edinboro* reek ivad be the tap o' bliss. 
Yon bonnie plaid aboot me hap, the skirlin' pipes gae brings 
fVith thistles fair tie up my hair, ivhile I of Scotia sing. 

Kate Douglas Wiggin. 

EDINBURGH: 

MELROSE Abbey by moonlight ! 
What a world of meaning those 
words hold for me! What a wealth of 
history those ruins contain ! Their story 
must be read before coming, for the cus- 
todian's daughter, who was our guide, like 
Stockton's Pomona, had learned her story 
by heart, and no amount of questioning 
would bring forth any other fads save 
those in the " book." 

This morning Ruth and I hired wheels 
and rode to Abbotsford. The beautiful 
home of Sir Walter Scott is after the style 
of many castles we have seen, walled in 
with gardens, terraced lawns, parks and 
drives. We plucked a bit of the ivy and 
holly hedge planted by Sir Walter's own 
hand, and walked in the gardens he loved 
so well. 

w W W TT w TT 

28 



SCOTLAND 

Imagine, if you can, a city of three hun- 
dred thousand inhabitants, having in its 
heart an immense rock, with a castle on 
top of it. 

Edinburgh is rich in landmarks, in spite 
of the fadl that it has been burned to the 
ground twice since 1300. Its natural beauty 
surpasses that of either London or Paris. 
It is built upon two ridges, divided by a 
valley, which is now a park. The new 
town is situated to the north of the park, 
and in this portion are found the modern 
buildings and principal hotels. From my 
window I look out on the marble features 
of Scott, whose monument is at the end 
of the park. 

The picturesque "Old Town'* begins 
with the castle on its huge embankment 
and slopes down toward the south. It is 
here one finds the historic landmarks 
crowding each other in dramatic interest. 
Here, too, is brought vividly to mind the 
sad story of poor Queen Mary. 

In the valley between the old and new 
towns is found a wealth of art and archi- 
tecture not duplicated anywhere, for these 
Scots are strong in their originality. 

It was from the esplanade overlooking 
one of the perpendicular sides of the castle 

29 



BY THE WAY 

rock, but which is now used as a drill- 
ground for the soldiers in the barracks, 
that I had my first view of that man-de- 
vised wonder, the Forth Bridge. I crossed 
it afterwards en route to Glasgow. 

A few days is but scant time to do jus- 
tice to the landmarks of Edinburgh, and 
it puzzles one to choose from among those 
orthodox and those otherwise. St. Giles, 
the old Gray Friars and John Knox vie 
with the haunts of Burns, Scott, Johnson 
and Boswell. The shops, too, form no 
small part of the attradliveness of the street 
scene, and the windows filled with articles 
done in plaids of the different clans are 
alluring. 

GLASGOW: 

'T'HE chief difference, I find, between the 
■'' English and Scottish castles lies in 
the fad that the former are simply resi- 
dences — walled to be sure — while the 
latter are strongholds, generally perched 
on some gigantic rock, and, incidentally, 
royalty resided in them long enough to 
have their heads under the guillotine. 
Stirling Castle is no exception to the rule, 
and it is therefore not visited by many 
women. 

30 




w a: o w o z 

> J- > a > > 

K r* n -^ t-> k-. 

d ZO ^ 

z s 



SCOTLAND 

There is a long, hard climb up the hill 
leading to the fortifications, for Stirling is 
still a garrisoned town, and the castle stands 
on the edge of a steep, isolated rock over- 
hanging the Forth. Here are the steps 
where Mary, Queen of Scots, stood to sur- 
vey her possessions, the window out of 
which the body of Douglas was thrown, 
and the raised dais, on the battlements, 
from which Queen Vidtoria reviewed her 
troops. From the battlements there is a 
fine view of the country for miles around, 
with the statue of Wallace to be seen in 
the far distance. Just before crossing the 
drawbridge at the entrance to the castle 
stands a bronze Robert Bruce, whose feat- 
ures, even in iron, bring back the foremost 
of Scottish chiefs. 

w W W 7P W W 

When a Scotchman tells you to do or 
see anything, he invariably adds, " If the 
day be fine," and true enough much de- 
pends on the "fineness** of the day in a 
country where it rains a little every day. 
The good wishes had been so many and so 
fervent that we might have a fine day for 
the coach drive through the Trossachs that 
nature put on her brightest smile and never 
shed a tear until we were under shelter. 

31 



BY THE WAY 

The name Trossachs signifies " bristly 
country," and Scott, in his " Lady of the 
Lake," tells how it "bristles" with beauty 
and romance. That old story is, after all, 
the best guide to the lake region of Scot- 
land. 

The big red coach, with its four white 
horses and red-coated driver, meets the 
passengers as they alight from the travel- 
ing carriages, and dashes away almost be- 
fore they are seated. Then follows in 
quick succession pidlures of white roads 
bordered with purple heather, with a back- 
ground of the dark green of the mountain; 
of a stone bridge spanning the blue waters 
of a salmon stream ; of a wild bit of moun- 
tain scenery, with a road seemingly straight 
up its rugged sides; and last comes the 
view of the calm waters of Loch Katrine. 

The boat Rob Roy receives the party 
from the coach and rounds Ellen's Isle, 
sailing almost the entire length of the 
beautiful loch. When it finally lands, there 
is another coach waiting to carry us across 
the mountains, and on to Inversnaid, 
where, after visiting the waterfall, the train 
is taken for Glasgow. 

Glasgow is not a piduresque town — in 
fa(5t, the Clyde is the prettiest thing about 

32 




DRYBURGH ABBEY 
WHERE SIR WALTER SCOTT IS BURIED 



SCOTLAND 

it — but it is modern and progressive, and 
it has two attractive public buildings, the 
cathedral and university. 

AYR : 

T>URNs's land lies between Glasgow and 
^ the sea, and from the moment that one 
alights from the train, at each step is found 
some haunt of the much-loved poet. It 
takes but a short time to peep through 
the window into the room where Burns 
was born, and to compare the humble cot 
where he lived his life with the magnificent 
place he occupies in death. His tomb is 
set high up on a hill in the midst of a 
park whose sides slope down to the bonnie 
Doon, 



33 



IRELAND 

When the glass is up to thirty ^ 
Be sure the tueather ivill be dirty. 
When the glass is high, O "very ! 
Therein be rain in Cork or Kerry. 
When the glass is loiv, Lork ! 
There'' II be rain in Kerry and Cork. 
* -X- * -X- ^- -Jfr 

And ivhen the glass has climbed its best. 
The sky *ll be iveeping in the ivest. 

Kate Douglas Wiggin. 

'TpHE shortest sea voyage between Scot- 
"*' land and Ireland is from Stranraer to 
Larne. Stranraer is a short ride from Ayr, 
but the S. S, Princess Vi5foria was five hours 
crossing the channel. It was cold and 
rough, and many of the passengers were ill. 

One of the most fascinating of trips is 
that to the Giant's Causeway. From Larne 
the road takes its way through a number 
of thriving towns, and the country looks 
neat and has an air of the well-to-do. 

At Portrush the scene changes, and be- 
comes, almost at once, one of wild rugged- 
ness. The cliffs rise high on one side, 
and the steep precipice at the edge of the 
tramway goes down to the sea on the other. 

34 



IRELAND 

This is an extraordinary coast. The adion 
of the waves and the tides on the lime- 
stone has made the rocks take on fantastic 
shapes. The ocean is always tempestuous. 
It must be beautiful from the water, but 
nothing save small boats can venture here, 
so the view is almost unknown. This sort 
of scene continues until we reach Dunluce 
Castle. 

Perched on the summit of an isolated 
rock, not far from the shore, is this pidur- 
esque fortress, separated from the main- 
land by a deep chasm. The castle is reached 
by a drawbridge, while beneath, the waves 
beat madly against the sides of the rock, 
black with the age of centuries. 

The word"causeway" means paving, and 
these Irish giants paved well. Basaltic rock 
is plentiful along the north coast, but this 
particular distridl alone embraces these odd 
varieties of form. The caves along the 
coast can be seen only by means of row- 
boats. These are manned by strong and 
trustworthy sailors. The sea is very rough, 
and the boatmen delight in making the 
trip seem even more hazardous than per- 
haps it really is. After the caves have been 
explored the boat is rowed to the extreme 
end of the Causeway, and it is during the 

35 



BY THE WAY 

walk back that we get the best idea of 
these wonderful formations, and have a 
hair-raising experience on a narrow path 
three hundred and twenty feet in air. At 
first it was delightful — high, of course, 
but with a broad path. On turning a sharp 
corner, suddenly we came to a narrowing 
of the way, with nothing but rocks and 
sky above, and rocks and sea below. We 
dared not turn back, and we walked that 
terrible pass until we came to a widening 
in the path — it seemed hours — and then 
Ruth and I sat down and cried from sheer 
exhaustion. It cost us ten shillings to 
enter by the sea and six to make our exit 
by land. 

How is that for the downtrodden Irish ? 

KILLARNEY: 

T WISH I were a poet! But even the poet 
-■- laureate, who recently visited here, says, 
"Words cannot do justice to this sweet, 
sad scene." His word "sad" pleased me, 
for I said yesterday to Ruth that the 
scenery of Ireland has a tenderness about 
it that makes one be quiet and think 
things. 

We started at nine-thirty in a four- 
horse coach with a bugler. The road lies 

36 



> c 

en ^ 



IRELAND 

along the north side of the lower lake, 
and it wasn't long before the exquisite 
mountain scenery came into view. The 
Purple Mountains grew more interesting 
at every step. Presently we came to Kate 
Kearney's cottage, and our Irish guide 
turned and asked, in the richest of brogues: 

**Oh ! have you ever heard of Kate Kearney? 
She lived at the Lakes of Killarney ; 
One glance of her eye would make a man die ; 
And have you never heard of Kate Kearney?'* 

Further on we struck the mountain pass, 
where the coach could not go. We dis- 
mounted and were placed on ponies. I 
thought at first I could not ride one, but 
I soon got used to the saddle, and I would 
not have missed the wild, weird pass over 
the mountain for anything. There was 
nothing " sad " or " tender " about that. It 
was fearful, awesome and mysterious. 

We left the ponies at the foot of the 
mountains and paid toll into Lord Bran- 
don's estate in order to reach the boats. 
Lunch was served on the banks of the 
upper lake. 

These lakes have to be explored in row- 
boats, on account of the narrows, a pass 
between the rocks not more than ten feet 



BY THE WAY 

apart. Such varied beauty I have seen 
nowhere else. The tender grace of the 
heather-strewn valley against the back- 
ground of hills, the frequent change from 
the gentle to the stern, the calm-flowing 
waters, the smiling cascades turning into 
dashing catarads over dangerous piles, are 
a never-ending source of surprises. 

The upper lake is more placid and less 
changeable, but the lower has every change, 
from smooth, glass-like waters to the rapids, 
which we "shoot" in no fearless manner. 
Finally we alight on Innisfallen Island to 
see the ruins of the abbey ; then we cross 
to Ross Castle. Here another coach and 
four was in waiting to carry us home. 
After ten miles by coach, five on horse- 
back and thirteen by boat, I adually dress 
for dinner. 

w TT W w w w 

We were up with the larks this morn- 
ing, packed everything very carefully, sent 
the basket off by carted luggage, and nearly 
came to blows with the stupid paddy at 
the station over the settlement. 

After breakfast the coach came dashing 
up, and away we flew again, over the purple 
hills, through shady lanes, past the wee 
farms and the hovels, catching glimpses 

38 



IRELAND 

of castles, churches and rufns. The most 
beautiful of all is Muckross Abbey. I had 
no idea we could possibly repeat the 
pleasures of yesterday, but in some respedls 
we exceeded them. Our road today wound 
up and around Eagle Nest Mountain, in 
the dark recesses of which the eagle builds 
its nest. Here, too, is the home of the 
famous Killarney echo. The efFed: pro- 
duced by the notes of a bugle is almost 
supernatural. 

The coachmen have a clever manner of 
talking to the echoes. For instance, ours 
called out, "Pat, were you drunk last 
night?" and the confession came back 
from a thousand hills, " Drunk last night, 
drunk last night, drunk last night." 

The literary Killarnian claims for this 
beautiful region that it was the ruins of 
the old castle on the shores of the Middle 
Lake which called forth Tennyson's mas- 
terpiece, " The Bugle Song." 

The Purple Mountains take their name 
from the purple of the heather. One can 
see every shade, from the light pink-lav- 
ender to the dark, almost red, purple. 

We arrived at GlengarifFjust as the sun 
was sinking. The valley, the lakes, the 
mountains, the red coach, with its four big 

39 



BY THE WAY 

horses darting**in and out of the winding 
road, and finally galloping up to the ex- 
quisite little inn at Glengariff, high on a 
knoll overlooking the blue waters of the 
Bay of Bantry, are among the delightful 
details of today's pi6ture. 

The shore line of this attradlive bay can 
be appreciated only when one is taken in 
a small boat, threading one's way through 
the numberless private yachts that dot 
its waters. One of the gentlemen of our 
party, thinking to have some sport with 
the boatman, said that only one lady could 
go in each boat, and that he must choose 
the one he wished to go with him. After 
a critical survey the answer came, " Divil 
a step will I go without the both of yez ! " 
and he handed us both into the boat, and 
left the gentlemen to seek a boat by them- 
selves. 

CORK: 

TT7E LEFT the coach at Bantry and took 
^ ^ an observation car to Cork. After a 
rest of a few hours and a dainty luncheon 
a jaunting-car "shook" us over the road 
to Blarney Castle. The road lies through 
a beautifully cultivated country. There is 
a charm about the sweet old castle that is 

40 



IRELAND 

indescribable. The view from the top is su- 
perb, taking in the valley of the Lee, with 
the old Roman bridge in the far distance. 

When any one tells you that he kissed 
the Blarney stone, take it with several 
grains of salt. It is a physical impossibility 
for one who wears petticoats. 

Cork is, to my mind, the prettiest town 
in all Ireland. It lies in the midst of lime- 
stone quarries, and is white to a degree. I 
had not read Thackeray's " Sketch Book " 
before I came here, and I wondered why 
some one had not raved over this magnifi- 
cent part of the world. I have since been 
delighted to find that he did rave — I use 
the word advisedly — as no one but Thack- 
eray can. 

Cork has more well-known landmarks 
than any other place in Ireland. In a little 
three-storied bell-tower in the center of 
the tow^n hangs the chime of bells made 
famous by Francis Mahony in his — 

**With deep afFedlion and recolleftion 
I often think of the Shandon bells." 

One of the pleasant drives from Cork 
takes one to Sir Walter Raleigh's home at 
Youghal. For more than four hundred 
years it has stood with but little change. 

41 



BY THE WAY 

Attached to the grounds is the garden 
where Raleigh experimented with the po- 
tato, which here was first grown in Ireland. 
We were a rather solemn lot on the 
drive to Queenstown, for all but Ruth and 
me were to sail from there for home. 
This seeing people off isn't what "it's 
cracked up" to be, especially when they 
are off for the land where "some one loves 
you and thinks of you far away," but we 
wished them bon voyage^ and Ruth and I 

turned our hard-set faces northward. 
* "SS- ^ •»• * * 

DUBLIN — Great Denmark Street: 

**No wind can drive my bark astray. 
Nor change the tide of destiny. ' ' 

A ND SO this all too happy summer must 
-^^ come to a close. I remain here to 
study, and Ruth goes to Iceland. We 
shall meet in the spring, when I shall have 
taken my degree (?), and go to sunny Italy 
together. 

It is said that to travel through Europe 
with one and still remain friends, stamps 
both as remarkably amiable persons. 
Without wishing to seem egotistical, Fd 
like you to know that before bidding Ruth 

42 



IRELAND 

good-bye she invited me to join her later 
in this jaunt through Italy. 

I was sitting on the deck of the ship 
that was to carry Ruth away from me, 
looking at the lights out over Dublin 
Bay, when some one touched me on the 
shoulder, and, on turning around, there 
stood dear Miss B., who was with us for 
a time at Killarney. I met her father on 
the street the other day, and told him of 
Ruth's intended departure. They were 
very good to come to us that night, and I 
shall never forget their kindness in help- 
ing me over these first days without my 
blessed Ruth. Through them I have 
made some charming friends who occupy 
the time before I start in to study. 

w 7r w w w W 

I have had a delightful outing, one 
which enabled me to see, and in an un- 
common manner, certain out-of-the-way 
places where the casual tourists rarely go, 
and it has all been due to the friends of 
Miss B. These Irish know how to do 
things well. 

We started away, a regular cavalcade, 
with most of the women in the coach and 
a few on horseback. The servants went 
ahead with the wagons carrying the viands 

43 



BY THE WAY 

and rugs, and, oh, a hundred things we 
Americans would never think of. 

Dublin has more pleasure resorts at her 
door than any other city in the world. 
We drove out through Phoenix Park, pass- 
ing the summer home of the Lord Lieu- 
tenant of Ireland. We made our first stop 
at Killiney Castle to get the fine view of 
Dublin Bay. It was from this spot that 
the poet wrote : 

" O Bay of Dublin ! 

My heart you're troublin'. 
Your beauty haunts me ' 
Like a fever dream.'* 

Then we dashed away to Bray and Bray's 
Head, along the Esplanade, through the 
Scalp, a wild bit of country in the county 
of Wicklow, and the Dargle, which is a 
romantic glen. We never go slowly — 
the horses are either galloped, or stopped 
altogether. Then on we flew through 
Enniskerry, a lovely little village, where 
everybody stopped or ran to the door to 
watch us go by, with a wave of the hand, 
and always a " God bless ye ! " 

I could not believe such magnificence 
was possible in Ireland as was found at 
Powers Court had I not seen it with my 

44 



IRELAND 

own eyes. It is the finest private mansion 
I have seen in all my travels. The Vale 
of Avoca, which called from Moore these 
lines, 

*« There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet 
As the vale on whose bosom these bright waters 
meet,'* 

did not appeal to me so much as did 
Killarney. 

The city of Kilkenny, called the " Marble 
City," impressed itself on me. The streets 
are paved with marble of their own quarry- 
ing, and what is better, the inhabitants 
have fire without smoke, from a peculiar 
coal found in that distrid:. They also 
claim to have water without mud, and 
earth without bog, and however true these 
boasts may be, it is a wonderfully clean 
city. The coach was sent back from this 
place by the servants, and we returned by 
train. 

It all seems very tame in this telling of 
mine, but the trip, every moment of it, 
was delightful. Sometimes we would all 
get out and walk; sometimes the ladies 
would exchange with the men and ride 
horseback; or when it would rain for a 
few moments the men would crowd into 

45 



BY THE WAY 

the coach. Then there would be good 
fun, and I could get an idea of their 
thoughts. They are great story-tellers, 
these Irish, and have such warm hearts. 
And the songs they sang, when shall I 
ever hear such again ? And yet there was 
not a young person, that is, one under 
thirty, in the party. 

Other things besides wine, my dear, 
"improve with age.** 

There is a pathos about the love of an 
Irishman for his country that is most 
touching, and each county vies with the 
others in patriotic loyalty ; and let me whis- 
per in your ear, that the Irish gentry are far 
and away ahead of "what the world thinks" 
they are. In fad:, they are "deloitful." 

I suppose you have noticed the number 
of" Kills" which form some part of many 
of the names I have referred to. "Kir 'is 
the Gaelic for "church." 

One of my Irish friends told the story 
of an Englishman who went over to Ire- 
land and fell upon the following conver- 
sation between two tough-looking natives : 

"I'm afther being over to Kilpatrick," 
said the first. 

"An' I," replied the other, "am afther 
being over to Kilmary." 

46 



IRELAND 

"And where are you going now?*' asked 
number one. 

"To Kilmore," was the answer. 

The frightened Enghshman concluded 
not to tarry in such a bloodthirsty country, 
and stood not upon the order of his going. 

W w % % W ^ 

Since writing that last letter I have been 
very busy getting in trim for work, and at 
last Vm "fit." 

I have been taking my afternoons to 
see this wonderful city. I told you, did I 
not, that because I am in these blessed 
petticoats, I am obliged to recite "apart" — 
not apart from the petticoats, but apart 
from the unpetticoated sort. 

My home is in quite a good-looking 
house, and it is well furnished, but the 
landlady is away, and the maidens do it up 
when and how they please. I have a large 
room " front," and as I study here every 
morning, and write much of the remainder 
of the time, my room is "tidied" only 
when I ask for it, and then, of course, it is 
an extra. 

Will you believe me when I tell you 
that nowhere in Europe have I seen more 
lovely or better dressed women than right 
here on Sackville Street ? I have accounted 

47 



BY THE WAY 

for it, in some degree, by the fa6l that our 
Irish cousins follow the American styles 
more closely than do any of their immedi- 
ate sisters. The Irish woman is always in 
good form. One never sees her wearing 
any sort of jewelry before luncheon. She 
is usually found in the morning in a short, 
tailored skirt, a chic blouse and hat; some 
dainty confedion of lace and muslin in 
the afternoon ; and, almost without excep- 
tion, the middle class, as well as the gentry, 
*Mress" for dinner; then it is one sees 
the beautiful jewels handed down by their 
forebears. 

The college buildings are delightfully 
quaint, with multitudes of old-fashioned 
wee window-panes which stud their faces. 
Statues of two of Ireland's beloved sons, 
Burke and Goldsmith, are on either side 
of the entrance. Opposite is the famous 
Bank of Ireland, beautiful in design, and 
the general post-office. Statues of "Hiber- 
nia,'* "Mercury" and "Fidelity" adorn the 
latter. 

For some reason an Irishman, in his 
native country, will not admit ignorance 
on any subjed:. He would rather tell you 
wrongly than to say, " I don't know." 

Some one asked a "jarvey" what those 

48 




O O H 

C! O ?3 

t^ f^ < 

^ M !^ 



IRELAND 

statues I have just mentioned were. Pat 
hadn't their names handy in his mind, so 
he drew on his imagination, and replied: 
"Thim's the twelve apostles, sur." 

"Twelve apostles," shouted the in- 
quirer; "why, man, there are only three 
of them ! " To which Pat, not to be caught 
by such a trifle, said : 

"Sure, an' yer honor wouldn't have 
thim all out in this dom rain, would ye ? 
The rest of 'em are inside sortin' o' the 
letters." 

The first day I was shown over Dublin 
my guide, in pointing out the college, said : 
" This is the Library, and an institute for 
learning." I asked, " How far does the 
Library extend ? " meaning, which was the 
Library and which the Institute. The 
honest, but thick-headed, paddy replied, 
"To the roof, mum." 

4fr w W W w w 

The comparative negled: by tourists of 
a country like Ireland, where nature has 
lavished her charms with such wonderful 
profusion, can only be explained by its 
hitherto unsettled condition, and its long- 
a-dying notoriety for inferior accommoda- 
tions and modes of transportation. But 
whatever difficulties and discomforts may 

49 



BY THE WAY 

have existed to deter the traveler in former 
days, it seems to me that httle now is 
wanting to render a tour through Ireland 
all that the rational traveler can desire. 

It is well nigh impossible to tell of the 
exquisite scenery of the beautiful island 
without seeming fulsome. Almost every 
county so teems with prehistoric remains, 
and the island is so begirt with varied at- 
tractiveness, that it is as alluring to the 
student and artist as it is to the pleasure 
seeker. 



5° 



ITALY 

For Italy ^ my Italy, mere tvords are faint ! 

No ivriter'' s pencil can con'vey thy heo'ven^s blue^ 

Thy languorous bay. 

Thou art thine oiun interpreter. 

I dream and ivake and Jin d no ruords for her — 

For Italy 'j soft-storied charms 

I throiv the English ivords aivay. 

Her gondolas drip through the night — 

/ stretch my arms toivard Napolij 

And ^^ Monte BelW'' softly say. 

Harriet Axtell Johnstone. 

SORRENTO : 

TTow Splendid it seems to be free agairx ! 
■*■ '■' And yet I do believe it does one 
good — having been out of the habit of 
studying — to take a few months every 
year or so and to give close application to 
some subjedl. 

I was glad w^hen the time came to end 
traveling and to begin study; and now I 
am glad that I can cease my studies and 
again begin sight-seeing. 

Ruth, as you know, found it necessary 
to return to America before rejoining me. 
She sailed from New York the i8th and 
I met her at Ponta Delgada. Ponta Del- 
gada is the chief city of the island of San 

51 



BY THE WAY 

Miguel, which, in turn, is the principal 
island of the Azores, and it is prominent 
for having the most beautiful gardens in 
the world. 

Among the passengers who boarded the 
ship with me at Ponta Delgada was a de- 
lightful Portuguese family — the mother, 
son and his wife — who came with us to 
Italy. They are cultured people, and speak 
Enghsh perfedlly, though the mother and 
wife had never before been oiF the island. 

We left the Azores on the 27th of 
April, passing Gibraltar on May Day. 
Gibraltar is not so frowning as I had im- 
agined, for the graceful rock smiled down 
on us as if in greeting. 

W 7v w vT w w 

All that has been written about the blue 
Mediterranean is true. It is blue as noth- 
ing else is. The sky, those days, was 
greenish pink, and you know what a de- 
light to the eye is the blending of these 
colors. But the one bright memory that 
stands out clearest when I think of the 
Mediterranean is the sunset. I remember 
one night in particular. The good captain 
told me to hasten from dinner. I drew my 
chair close to the rail, and out beyond 
the horizon I saw a city of fire. The beau- 

52 



ITALY 

tiful mansions, and cathedrals, and castles, 
with turrets and towers, were all ablaze. 
Through the streets people in fiery red 
draperies were flying from the flames. 
Sometimes an old man with flowing beard 
appeared in the midst of them, and with 
outstretched hands, would seem to call 
aloud. The flames turned to a greenish 
gold, the smoke rolled away, and far be- 
yond appeared a Moorish village, the 
temples carved of alabaster. Suddenly, 
through the lace-like pillars, came the 
faintest tint of pink, growing dimmer and 
dimmer, until only the outlines could be 
discerned. A great billowy sea of foam 
rolled over the village, and divided on 
either side of a world of golden fire, and, 
as I gazed, it dropped into the black water. 

A voice said, " Come, dear, the captain 
wants you to see the moon come up out 
of the sea." It was my blessed Ruth. 

" Did you see that burning city and 
Moorish village?" I asked, as soon as I had 
returned to earth. "Yes, dear,'* she replied, 
and there were tears in her eyes, too. 

45" ^ 46" 45" 4fr % 

This morning we were called at five 
o'clock to see the sun rise over Vesuvius. 
The same ball of golden fire which went 

53 



BY THE WAY 

down into the sea that night crowned for 
a brief moment the wonderful Mount. 

The Bay of Naples is unlike anything 
else on earth. On one side are the castles, 
or villas, or pleasure resorts, whichever it 
be that comes to your gaze as you glide 
past; on the other, the turquoise-blue 
water; and far in the distance, like a camel 
with two humps, rising out of the sea, is 
Capri. The air is filled with music, and 
the scene is one of the wildest confusion. 
Every sort of craft that sails the seas, every 
sort of flag, every sort of sound, causes you 
to wonder if you will ever get through 
that throng. The ship is stopped, the 
steps are let down the side, and the dodlor 
and the purser with the mail come on 
board. 

While we were busy with our letters 
from home, one of the party with whom 
we were to go through the Blue Grotto 
had bargained with a boatman to take us 
to the ship that goes to Capri. 

The mode of going ashore here at 
Naples is different from that of any other 
port where I have landed. Hundreds of 
stout row-boats come from the various 
hotels, just as the omnibuses meet the 
trains in the smaller cities at home. 

54 




OLD STEPS AND SEA WALL, CAPRI 



ITALY 

The Blue Grotto must be visited on a 
clear, calm day, and some old travelers 
advised us, if the day was fine, to go diredly 
from the ship before landing. The captain 
allowed us to leave our luggage on board, 
as the ship will stay in Naples for several 
days to unload freight. There were six 
of us, then, transferred to the German 
Lloyd S. S, Nixe, 

As we sailed away, Vesuvius and Sor- 
rento were to the left, the city of Naples 
behind us, and the outlines of Capri ahead. 
We went directly to the Grotto, or rather 
as near as the large boat goes. Here, again, 
we took to the row-boats, two in each. 

The Grotto itself is a cavern in the side 
of the huge rocks of Capri. It is necessary 
to lie flat in the boat to get through the 
tiny opening. I could readily see why the 
authorities do not permit visitors on stormy 
days, for the sea was rough even on this 
quiet morning. The interior of the cave 
is high, and the effed of the refledion of 
the sun on the blue waters is indescribable. 
Everything under water takes on a silvery 
hue, and the echo is weird. 

On board the ship once more, we sailed 
away from this real fairies' abode to the 
town of Capri, arriving at high noon, and 

55 



BY THE WAY 

as the town is on the side of a mountain, 
we climbed up a good part of its side to 
get a lunch. It was my first Italian meal, 
and it was delicious. Of course there 
was macaroni in the Italian style, with 
beef-stock and tomatoes, and fried fresh 
sardines. 

The dessert was a fruit, something like 
our California plum, which I tasted for 
the first time at the Azores, — the nespera. 

After the repast we hired a carriage for 
Anacapri. The road, hewn out of solid 
rock, lies along the mountainside, giving 
us a magnificent view of the bay, with 
Vesuvius always in sight. 

We caught the Nixe on her return trip 
to Sorrento. Here, again, the little boats 
meet us, each bearing the name of its hotel 
on a silken banner. The boatman shouts 
out the name of the one he represents 
until a passenger calls, in turn, his choice. 
We were going to the Cocumella, and I 
wish you might have heard the boatman 
call, in his soft, musical voice, "Co — ceh — 
m-e-1-l-a! Co — ceh — m-e-1-l-a!" The 
steward helped us into the boat, and we 
were rowed to an opening in the cliff. The 
town lies on the top of perpendicular rocks, 
and we struggled up five hundred steps 

56 



I^^n 




11^ 




H 











■t ' %. 



ITALY 

cut in a tunnel through the mountain, 
coming out at the top into the lovely 
garden of this hotel. 

The Cocumella was once a monastery, 
and its situation is ideal. Here is a place 
where I should be willing to spend the 
remainder of my days. 

NAPLES : 

Ty UTH is such a brick ! She is not afraid 
-■-^ of her shadow, and she likes to be 
alone some time each day. That remark 
was called forth by the number of tourists 
one meets who are worn to the bone by 
companions who are afraid to room alone 
or to look out of the window alone — to 
eat, sleep, walk, talk, or pray alone- — and 
who must have some one close by them 
every moment of the time. 

Last night, on our walk about Sorrento, 
we called at the house of Mr. Marion 
Crawford. 

This morning in two carriages, for there 
were eight of us, we went for the drive 
from Sorrento to Amalfi. The road, cut 
out of the rock, with a balustrade of stone 
to protedt the traveler from the precipice, 
is regarded as one of the finest pieces of 
engineering in existence. Sometimes a 

57 



BY THE WAY 

viadu(5t, perhaps Rvc hundred feet high, 
will span a chasm. The road winds up 
and around the mountain, and the view, 
with the Bay of Naples at its feet, is 
sublimely picturesque. The almost per- 
pendicular sides of the mountain, on the 
different levels, are terraced and planted 
with olive, lemon, or other fruit trees. 

The drive was ended at Vietri about 
five, and we returned to Naples by train, 
having our first glimpse of Pompeii and 
our first ride on an Italian railway. 

w W W w W W 

It rained in torrents all day, but, nothing 
daunted, we started for the Customs. That 
sounds very commonplace and innocent, 
but it spells a mad, wild sort of a time. 
In the first place, we had to beg, borrow, 
and finally to steal 2Lfacchino (porter), and 
induce him to get a boatman to fetch our 
luggage from the ship, fully a mile out in 
the bay. We paid him first to show there 
were no hard feelings, again to get a tar- 
paulin to cover the luggage, and again and 
again for — I know not what. 

Then we sat down and waited — stood 
up and waited — purchased all the post- 
cards in the little cafe and wrote to every 
one we knew — waited some more, and, 

58 



ITALY 

finally — yes, they came. There was an- 
other transferring of coins — always from 
my hand into that of the facchino — then 
the Customs with its fees, and the cabman 
with his, and all the time I had to take 
their word for the change, for I had not 
mastered the lira, 

^ w W tT W W 

Before leaving Naples we visited Pom- 
peii. I was disappointed at first with these 
wonderful ruins. There is much that one 
must imagine. One must take the word 
of the guides for everything, and they have 
a little way of "space-filling" which has 
lost its charm for me. But Pompeii grew 
on me each moment of my stay. We were 
taken in a sedan chair carried on the 
shoulders of two strong peasants. The 
general appearance is that of a town which 
has been swept by a tornado, unroofing 
the houses and leaving only the walls 
standing. It is on these walls that one 
finds the exquisite bits of coloring which 
has given us the Pompeian tints. 

^ ^ ^ ¥t ^ ^ 

The charm of Naples lies in the won- 
derful scenery surrounding it, and in its 
street scenes, with the noise and clatter of 
its street vendors. Life in the poorer 

59 



BY THE WAY 

quarters is like that in no other city, being 
free and open to public gaze. All the 
duties of the household are performed in 
the street. 

ROME: 

'TpHE first thing to learn in Rome is the 
"■- pronunciation of the name of the street 
and the number of your pension^ in order 
that you may be able to get home. Our 
pronunciation is set-tahn-tah dew-ey vee-ah 
sis-teen-ah, and the manner with which we 
hop into a cab and say it to the cocchiere 
stamps us as old Italians. 

Our home here is at the top of the Scala 
di Spagna (Spanish steps), right in the 
heart of the new town. We walk down 
the steps every morning as we start out 
to the American Express office to get our 
letters, but we come up the "lift" — for 
t&n centimes. 

w w w 4r w ^ 

It is absolutely necessary to be driven 
about Rome accompanied by a guide, 
whether one's stay is to be of long or 
short duration. In no other manner can 
one comprehensively grasp this vast array 
of ancient and modern art, nor the colossal 
expanse of architecture, both standing and 

60 



^ ' "»i^ ^ ^gW^4»j^^j!«i ! g^iWW^^a ■^ 




STREET SCENE, NAPLES 



ITALY 

in ruins. After having been shown the 
important places, it is well to return alone, 
and at leisure ponder over those things 
which most appeal to the heart as well as 
to the senses. 

45- * -X- * * * 

I have had a careful explanation of the 
significance of that much-used word — 
"basilica." Originally it was a portico 
separated from some public building, not 
unlike the peristyle at our Columbian Ex- 
position, save that it need not, of necessity, 
be near any body of water; in fad:, it rarely 
was in the old Roman days. The basilicas 
of the old forums were really walks under 
cover. In later days these porticos were 
inclosed and made into churches. The 
name "basilica" still clung to them, and 
now the oblong space forming the main 
body between the pillars in any church 
edifice, without regard to the style of 

architedure, is so called. 

* * * * * * 

I have read somewhere, in the reveries 
of a bachelor (not Ik Marvel's), that 
"style is born IN a woman and ON a 
man." I wonder how he knew — perhaps 
he had been in Rome. 

The style of the greater number of 

6i 



BY THE WAY 

foreign tourists of the female persuasion 
must be "in," as there is little visible to 
the naked eye. But the style of these 
Italian soldiers is " on," indeed, and they 
are on dress parade the livelong day. I 
have used all my superlatives, but really 
in no city on earth does one see such glori- 
ously, exquisitely dressed little men as are 
the soldiers of Italy, and especially of 
Rome. The Bersaglieri form the elite 
corps, and wear a large round hat, with a 
multitude of cock's plumes, tipped far on 
one side of the head. This tribute to the 
swagger appearance of the soldiers is also 
applicable to the young priests, monks 
and students, and even to the butlers and 
footmen. 

w w w WW. "W 

On a fete day we went to St. Peter's, 
and were repaid by meeting our Portu- 
guese friends, who took us to drive through 
the beautiful parks and grounds of the 
Villa Borghese, returning to luncheon with 
us at OMY pension. This home of ours is a 
very attractive place, but it tries my patience 
to be forced to go through a ten-course 
dinner each night, when I am anxious to 
get out. The words "change" and "haste" 
are unknown here, and it is only endurable 

62 



ITALY 

because the dinner is so exquisitely pre- 
pared and served. 

We have some interesting and clever 
people at our table — a family from Bos- 
ton, two girls from Washington, a brother 
and sister from Philadelphia, who have 
lived here for years, and a beautiful Cana- 
dian. The last named sits next me, and 
our sotto voce conversations have brought 
out the fa6l that her heart is full of love 
for all things. She is Canadian only by 
birth, and among the array of smartly 
dressed Americans in t\iQ pension, she leads. 

I do not wish to be put on record as 
one who judges a woman solely by her 
clothes; but oh, the American woman 
here is incomparable. I agree with Lillian 
Bell, that the women of no other race can 
compare with her in dress, or taste, or 
carriage. She is bewitching! She is a type 1 
I believe I once told you that we had no 
type. I take it back. We have, and so 
glorious a one that I am proud to claim 
kinship with her. 

•H- -X- * ^ 45- * 

You will be shocked, I am sure, when 
I tell you that I do not agree with Mr. 
Howells, nor yet with my beloved Haw- 
thorne, for I love modern Rome. To be 

63 



BY THE WAY 

sure, Hawthorne wrote of Rome in 1858, 
and Mr. Howells in 1864, and it may be 
the shops were not so altogether enticing 
in those early days, or it may be because 
they were not women that the shops had 
no charm for them ; but if they had known 
Castellani, the goldsmith on the Piazzi di 
Trevi, who executes designs from the old 
Grecian, Etruscan and Byzantine models, 
or Roccheggiani's exquisite mosaics and 
cameo carvings, it is probable their opin- 
ions would be modified. 

W w w W W w 

Michelangelo's "Moses'' is not in the 
big St. Peter's of the Vatican, but in 
St. Peter's of Vincoli. This was a surprise 
to me, for I had supposed to the contrary. 
I had asked many times, to no avail, why 
Michelangelo put horns on his " Moses," 
until a learned monk told me that, in an 
early translation of the Scriptures, the 
word "horns" was incorredtly given for 
"skin." Notwithstanding the dispropor- 
tion of its outlines, the gigantic statue is, 
to me, the most wonderful thing ever cut 
from a block of marble. 

w W W w 4t ^ 

We have an ascensor in our pension. 
The big concierge puts me in, locks the 

64 



ITALY 

door, unlocks the catch, and lets it go. 
When it gets to my floor it is supposed 
to stop, and in the same breath to have its 
door unfastened, and all I have to do is 
to walk out. Sometimes, however, it stops 
midway between floors, and then I wish I 
had walked up, I find Roman and Span- 
ish steps just as fatiguing to climb as any 
others, and patronize the ascensors with 

vigor. 

* * * * * * 

We went by appointment one day to 
the Rospigliosi Palazzo to return the visit 
of our Portuguese friends, Signor and 
Signora A., and were taken into another 
part of the palace to see Guido Reni's 
"Aurora." The pidure is painted on the 
ceiling, and there is an arrangement of 
mirrors by which one can view it without 
having to tire the neck with looking up so 
constantly. It is the greatest painting that 
has been done in the last two hundred 
years. In the evening we all went to hear 
"Gioconda" at the Teatro Adriano, The 
Italian audience seemed, by the uproarious 
applause that greeted each aria, to appre- 
ciate the music, but talked continually 
through it all. 

W 4t TV vT w w 

65 



BY THE WAY 

We have revisited many of the places 
which most interested us during our three 
days' drive with the cicerone^ and have 
whiled away many delightful mornings in 
the shops. We rest a little in the early 
part of each afternoon, and then, almost 
invariably, we drive on the Corso and to 
the Pincian Gardens, where the band plays 
from iiYQ until an hour after Ave Maria, 
Here one sees the smart Romans, and in 
fad: people of nearly every race on earth, 
in their best attire, on pleasure bent. 

It is needless to tell you that we take a 
carriage sans numero^ for the private parks 
of the best palazzos allow only carriages 
without numbers to enter. 

The scene on the Pincio is just what it 
was in Hawthorne's day. Read his descrip- 
tion of it in the " Italian Note Book," 
and you will see it more clearly than I can 
make you understand. It is a continual 
fete champetre. 

One day, while we were obliged to stop 
on account of a jam in the ring of carriages 
that move slowly round and round the 
circle where the band plays, Ruth stepped 
from the vehicle to get nearer the beautiful 
fountain of Moses to make a little sketch 
of it. I sat alone listening to the glorious 

66 



ITALY 

Italian band. And while my thoughts were 
thousands of miles away, and very near 
the one to whom this message goes first, 
some one spoke to me in French, and 
asked if I would have the goodness to go 
to his madame. It was the serving-man 
of our fellow-voyager, she of the same 
initials as my own. I looked in the direc- 
tion he indicated, and there, not ten car- 
riages back, she was, so hemmed in that 
it was impossible to drive alongside. 

As I left my seat and walked over to 
her, she met me with the radiant face and 
smiling greeting of an old friend. She is 
beautiful, with that inimitable something 
about her that attrad:s one, and I won- 
dered if I should ever know what her 
given name is. I knew for a certainty that 
I should never ask. She is not old, but 
gives one the impression that she has lived 
long enough to have "gathered the fruits 
of experience where once blossomed the 
flowers of youthful enthusiasm." 

* ^ * -Sfr "JS- * 

The bells foryfi;^' Maria had rung. The 
musicians were picking up their music. 
The Pincian Hill was deserted. Ruth sat 
alone in her carriage as this woman's hand 
grasped mine in reludant parting. 

67 



BY THE WAY 

" Good nightj" I said. 

"Goodnight!" 

You recall my telling you of Mrs. F. 
on the ship — she whom I met on the 
Pincian Hill — and her invalid son ? Well, 
he was not her son. He is her — husband. 

It will be no breach of confidence to tell 
you the story, for I have her permission — 
withholding her name, of course. 

It seems that the husband, in his youth, 
was rather "rapid*'; and, in a most idiotic 
will, the father left him a large fortune, 
provided that before his twenty-fifth year 
he had been married to a woman at least 
ten years his senior. It was stipulated 
that the woman was not to know the con- 
ditions of the will until after the mar- 
riage, so that she might be some one of 
worth and character, capable of caring for 
the money. 

No wonder it sobered the poor young 
man. He swore that he would never 
marry, and that those who were ready to 
grasp the fortune, should he fail to " keep 
the bond," might have it, and be — happy. 

One vacation time found him at the 
home of a classmate in one of the eastern 
college towns, where he met and fell in love 
with this woman whom I have described 

68 



ITALY 

to you. He had no idea she was older 
than himself until he had made her a pro- 
posal of marriage. She, of course, refused 
what she conceived to be a foolish boy's 
fancy. He sent for his mother, and to- 
gether they set themselves to win the lady 
of his choice, after the mother had " looked 
her up" — and down — as mothers of pre- 
cious boys are wont to do. 

In the meantime the young man was 
taken very ill, in his delirium calling for 
his love, who finally, at the physician's 
urgent request, went to him, and, with his 
mother, cared for him. 

It was the day before his twenty-fifth 
birthday. The mother was frantic at the 
thought that her son was to lose his for- 
tune. He cared little for the money, save 
that it would enable him to shower favors 
upon this love of his. He begged her to 
marry him that night to save him from 
some great trouble — if she ever regretted 
it for one moment she should be free — 
that he could not in honor tell her why it 
was so necessary that the marriage be sol- 
emnized at once. She had grown fond of 
him, yet naturally hesitated to do either 
him or herself injustice. Finally his help- 
lessness and his mother's agony proved 

69 



BY THE WAY 

too much for her, and just before the mid- 
night they were married at his bedside. 

Who can account for the vagaries of a 
woman's fancy ? The foolish conditions 
which she made a part by this contra6l 
were : that they should live abroad where 
they were not known, and that she should 
be known as his mother. 

His own mother, otherwise a strong, 
sensible woman, agreed to everything, so 
great was her anxiety about her son. 

In another week they had started for 
Europe, and I have accounted to you the 
strange manner in which their names ap- 
peared on the ship's register. It served as 
a safeguard against inquisitive people, and 
every one took it for granted that they 
were mother and son — and she a widow. 

Immediately they landed they met an 
old friend of hers, and thus began a series 
of explanations, for her friend knew she 
had no son. 

Fortunately this woman was a brave, 
true friend, and her advice was so heroic 
that the bride was speechless before such 
fearlessness. 

She said to her: "You must stop all this 
foolishness at once. There is absolutely 
no excuse for such deceit. One falsehood 

70 



ITALY 

paves the way for hundreds of others. It 
has already cost you the loss of your peace 
of mind and it is the cause of your hus- 
band's continued illness. How can you 
expert him to be strong, while living a 
lie?" 

This last statement was pretty hard to 
accept, but it proved that her liking for 
her young husband had grown into love," 
for her one desire was to see him well and 
strong. 

Her pride, however, stood in her way 
and she must have advice. Everything 
else the friend said was true, for already 
her day had become a hideous nightmare 
with this constant fear of meeting some 
one whom she knew. And this is why she 
sent her footman for me the day of the 
concert in the Pincian Gardens. 

She explained that she had heard Ruth 
and me discussing points in ontology on 
the ship, and wanted to ask me if what 
her friend said was true. She told me the 
story just as I have told it to you, not 
naming herself. I divined at once it was 
her own, but did not let her feel that I 
had perceived it, and for answer I said : 

" How I should love to meet that friend ! 
Most assuredly she is right. Falsehood 

71 



BY THE WAY 

and deceit bring nothing but suffering. 
Send word to that poor foolish woman at 
once that you too are opposed to her 
living a lie any longer." 

It was listening to this tale that made 
me forget the crowd, the perfume of the 
flowers, and even the exquisite music of 
the King's band. 

^ ^ ¥r ^ ^ ¥f 

How glad I am that I saw dear old 
England first, for it seems very young 
when compared to Rome. Everything here 
is twenty centuries or more old, therefore 
you may imagine that, by comparison, 
things only a few hundred years old are 
yet in their infancy. 

Apropos of age, while at Oxford a stu- 
dent told us, with much solemnity, that 
Magdalen College "was built in 1490, be- 
fore you were discovered." The do6lor 
said, " Well, what of it ? " I was shocked 
at the good doctor, and was much im- 
pressed by the great age; but I understand 
the do6tor's sarcasm now, for he had re- 
cently returned from Rome. 

The "oldest church in Rome," how- 
ever, reminds one of "the favorite pupil 
of Liszt." I am meeting with them still. 

The most magnificent place in Rome, 

72 



ITALY 

after the Vatican, is the Villa Borghese 
( bor-gay-zay ), not only on account of the 
beautiful park which contains numerous 
ornamental strudlures, little temples, ruins, 
fountains and statues, but also on account 
of the collection of antiques in its casino, 
or gallery. It is here that Canova's marble 
statue of Pauline Borghese is exhibited — 
to me the most beautiful marble in Rome. 
Here, too, is Titian's first great work, 
"Sacred and Profane Love." I fancy that 
Titian saw life from many view-points. 

^ ^ 45" ^ "JS" ^ 

Imagine one going from the sublime to 
the ridiculous — from the gorgeous Bor- 
ghese Villa to a Rag Fair. A Rag Fair is 
an open-air sale of everything that can be 
thought of, from a garter clasp to a diadem. 
We went for old brass candlesticks of the 
seven-pronged, sacred variety, afterwards 
continuing on to St. Peter's, where we 
were repaid for mounting an incline of 
1,332 feet up through the dome by the 
view of all Rome, the Vatican gardens 
and the tops of the " seven hills." 

* ^ * 45- * * 

Mrs. F. joins us often now. She went 
with us again Thursday to the church 
San Paola alle Tre Fontane ( St. Paul of 

73 



BY THE WAY 

the Three Fountains). It is kept by Trap- 
pist monks, a silent order. They never 
speak to each other, but make up for 
it when visitors come. We had a dear 
"brother" show us the objeds of interest, 
and he presented each with a wee drinking 
glass to measure out the Eucalyptus wine 
which they make there. 

The three fountains are flowing clear as 
crystal, and whether or not the head of 
St. Paul jumped three times on these 
spots, as tradition has it, it matters little; 
but the simple faith of the sweet-faced 
sisters who knelt and drank from each 
spring and arose freed from some claim 
was touching, and far from provoking the 
mirth that some people feel toward these 
devout pilgrims. 

En route home we stopped at the Eng- 
lish cemetery and plucked a flower from 
the graye of Keats and of Shelley and of 
Constance Fenimore Woolson. 

We saw Hilda's Tower, too, that day. 
I had occasion to thank Hawthorne for 
"The Marble Faun" and "Italian Note 
Book," otherwise I should not have been 
able to relate the story of Hilda and her 
tower. In truth, all Italy would have re- 
mained as a closed book to me had it not 

74 




PO -TJ << M O »» 

O > > 2 m H 

Sf i_j '•' I- > 

^> 2 z t- :^ 

'^nn > > N 

w > H > 

> 



ITALY 

been for my three " H's," as Ruth calls 
them — Hawthorne, Howells and Hutton. 
The latter says, in his " Literary Land- 
marks of Rome," that the " Italian Note 
Book" is still the best guide to Rome that 
has ever been written, and that one should 
read it before coming, again while here, 
and yet once more after returning home. 
I shall say the same about the Land- 
marks, for without them much of the 
charm I have found here would have been 
lost. 

w W W W w W 

Yesterday we bade St. Peter's good-bye 
on our way to Sant' Onofrio. Here, again, 
a bright young fr^re showed us over the 
church made most interesting from its 
association with Tasso. There are some 
excellent paintings in the lunettes under 
the colonnade of the cloisters. 

It is a great pleasure to show Mrs. F. 
anything, as her appreciation is keen. She 
knew little of the literary landmarks which 
she passed each day, and I pointed out to 
her the house where Keats lived, on the 
left as one goes down the Spanish steps, 
the house of Shelley on the right, with 
the lodgings occupied by Byron almost 
diredtly opposite. 

IS 



BY THE WAY 

On our return from Sant* Onofrlo, she 
inquired of the coachman if the horses were 
fit, and upon his answering that they were 
good for several hours, she turned and in 
a low voice asked me to remain with her 
as long as possible. I understood. From 
a list of streets and numbers which I had 
with me, we selected such as we wished to 
visit. 

On the Via di Bocca di Leona we found 
the home of the Brownings ; close by, the 
house that sheltered Thackeray in Rome ; 
and not far away, the place where Adelaide 
Sartoris lived. In rapid succession, then, 
we made "little journeys" to the Italian 
homes of Louisa Alcott, Helen Hunt 
Jackson, George Eliot, and the house 
where Mrs. Jameson held Sunday soirees 
in a wee two-by-four room. Mr. Hutton 
and I did good work, for after all other 
sights had failed to interest, our (?) liter- 
ary landmarks succeeded in saving the day. 

ORVIETO : 

A FTER the rather strenuous day, the ac- 
-^^ count of which closed my last letter, 
we settled up our affairs in Rome, heard 
for the last time the Pope's angel choir, 
sent off our luggage, purchased our tickets, 

76 



ITALY 

with innumerable stop-overs, and, hardest 
of all, bade good-bye to our friends. 

Just before we were leaving, Mrs. F.'s 
footman brought to the door of our com- 
partment in the traveling-carriage an arm- 
ful of roses and a letter. The flowers 
brightened all the hot dusty day, but the 
letter — oh, that letter will brighten all the 
years that may come to me, and I have 
tucked the precious words away in the 
warmest corner of my heart, to be taken 
out on the rainy days of life, and fondled 
like some of childhood's memories. 

I did not see her again after she left 
me at the door that evening, nor had she 
spoken one word to indicate that she 
knew that I knew. She paid me the high- 
est tribute of friendship — silence. 

Among other things in the letter, she 
said : 

"The Catholic Church has not a mo- 
nopoly of 'ears that hear yet hear not, 
eyes that see and are blind,' for I find in 
you one who is built fine-grained enough 
not to mistake silence for stupidity, nor to 
consider the absence of an interrogation 
mark as lack of sympathy. The very evi- 
dent fad: that your beautiful companion 
knows nothing of my sorrow stamps you 

77 



BY THE WAY 

as a splendid friend, and I want you for 
such. * * * Your going has taken away 
my strongest staff. You have been bravely 
permitting me to lean on you, too hard I 
fear, these last days, but you understand, 
and, understanding, forget. 

" I should come to you in person to bid 
you good-speed, but I should break down 
and perhaps not be able to let you go, so 
I am sending instead this message. I have 
determined to be brave, to end this deceit, 
to go away from Rome; to begin aright 
in some other place; to live the truth.** 

I left the eternal city with a light and 
happy heart, for my new hearths sister 
(new if we count by that false estimate — 
time) is free. I still do not know what 
her given name is, as all her notes have 
been signed with her initials, and her sur- 
name does not resemble mine in the least. 

No wonder Mrs. Ward sent her weak- 
est heroine here to hide. If you ever lose 
me, and suspedt that I am in hiding, hunt 
for me in Orvieto. I had heard nothing 
of the place until I read "Eleanor," but 
now, if I were a guide-book, I'd put five 
asterisks before it and six in front of its 
cathedral. You will understand how I feel 

78 



ITALY 

about it when I tell you that most of 
the guide-books never use more than two 
stars to indicate the superlative. Loomis, 
in his wildest flights, sometimes uses three, 
so I think five would about fit my estima- 
tion of the Orvieto of today. 

The town is on the top of a mountain, 
up the almost perpendicular sides of which 
it is reached by a funicolare, 

SIENA, ITALIE — Signora Elvina Saccaro's, Pen- 
sion TOGNAZZI, VIA SaLLUTIO BaNDINI 1 9. 

T WISH I might live here, on this street 
-*- and in this pension, and have it all on 
my visiting-cards, and write it in my best 
style at the top of my letters. If it were 
engraved on my visiting-cards, and you 
should wish to come to see me, you would 
simply have to say to the cabman, ^^ See- 
nyee-o-rah — Al-vee-nyee-ah — Sah-chah- 
ro — Pen-see-yo — Tog-natz-zee — Vee-ah — 
Sal-lut-chio — Bahn-dee-nee — Dee-chee-ah- 
no-vay^^ but the entire address doesn't 
include the beautiful cloisters into which 
my windows open, for the place is an old 
monastery. 

The first I ever knew of Siena was from 
one of Lilian Whiting's books. She spoke 
of Symonds' history and Mrs. Butler's 

79 



BY THE WAY 

" Biography of Katherine of Siena/* and 
straightway I devoured them both. How 
little I thought then that I should walk 
the same streets and kneel at the same 
altar at which that saint knelt. I like her 
the best of all the saints " I have met/' 
for she loved to be alone and build castles. 
Siena is a rival of Rome and Florence 
in medieval art and archited:ure. The 
churches are wonderfully beautiful, and 
filled with the choicest works of ancient 
and modern artists. The marble pave- 
ment and the carved white marble pulpit 
in the cathedral cannot be equaled. 

FLORENCE: 

^T^HREE weeks in the art center of the 
-^ world and not one letter written ! The 
note-book, however, is getting so fat that 
it begs to be put on paper and sent away 
to you. My bank account is correspond- 
ingly lean, made so partly by the purchase 
of pretty carte-postales which carry the 
telegraphic messages across the sea, just to 
show that Fm thinking and that a letter 
is coming some fine day. 

\^ mj porte-monnaieYJ^TQ, not so tr'es mai- 
grCy Fd buy many copies of Howell's "Tus- 
can Cities," Hutton's "Literary Land- 

80 



ITALY 

marks of Florence," Ruskin's " Mornings 
in Florence/* Mrs. 01iphant*s " Makers 
of Florence," and Mrs. Browning^s " The 
Casa Guidi Windows," and send to each 
of you with this inscription : " These are 
my sentiments." 

It was with a sense of lazy delight that 
we wandered about Siena, watching the 
peasant women in their picturesque head 
coverings, inhaling the atmosphere of me- 
diaeval art and the restfulness that comes 
with it. In the same leisurely manner, 
armed with numerous Leghorn straws, we 
turned our faces northward, and found 
pleasant rooms awaiting us here. 

Our windows look out on the Arno, 
and to the right I see the Ponte Vecchio; 
to the left, a bella vista which ends at 
Fiesole. 

The new Florence is broad and white 
and glistening; the old is narrow, dark and 
massively rich. 

The Arno, like the Tiber, is a yellowish 
green. Its eight bridges are unique, ancient 
and historic. 

The Lungarno, down which we walk 
each morning, is odd and fascinating. It 
has on the Arno side a marble balustrade ; 
on the other, little shops displaying jewels 

8i 



BY THE WAY 

and precious stones which would tempt 
the soul of a female angel Gabriel. The 
display of turquoise, of which stone Flor- 
ence is the home, is ravishing, yet some- 
times — once, I think — we really went by 
without entering. The day we did not go 
in, however, we went by appointment to 
one of the shops on the Tornabuoni, where 
were arrayed some gorgeous ancient chains 
and rings of scarabs, the cartouch of which 
proved them to belong to some Egyptian 
potentate. 

The Piazza della Signoria forms the 
center of Florence. It is surrounded by 
the Palazzo Vecchio, the Uffizi, and the 
Loggia dei Lanzi. In the center is the 
fountain of Neptune. It was in this piazza 
that Savonarola was burned. 

In the buildings just named, each a mas- 
terpiece of architectural beauty, are found 
many of the chefs-d^ceuvre of the world. 
Florence overflows with so much that is 
ornate, it was difficult to make seled:ions. 
Like poor Helen — 

** Were the whole world mine, Florence being bated, 
I'd give it all to be to her translated.'* 

Sometimes I think if I could have but 
one of these gems of architecture, I*d 

82 



ITALY 

choose the Duomo, with its graceful fa9ade 
and its campanile; but when I cross the 
street to the Baptistery of San Giovanni, 
and gaze at its bronze doors, I change my 
mind, and give it first place. 

Now it is Santa Croce, with its wondrous 
wealth of marbles, where Ruskin — and 
I — spent many happy hours; but soon 
Santa Maria Novella has outshone them 
all, until the loveliness of the Medicean 
Chapel wins my heart anew. 

Alas, so weak am I, that all the cathe- 
drals sink into obscurity when the Uffizi 
Palazzo, with its Tribune, is seen. It holds 
the one perfe6t woman — the Uffizi Venus. 
The Pitti Palace and the Boboli Gardens ; 
the Bargello, with its unique staircase and 
court; the Riccardi — in truth, all the 
wealth of incomparable grandeur of artistic 
Florence have their places in my affedtions. 

The wealth, beauty and royalty of Flor- 
ence are seen on the fashionable driveway. 
The Cascine is to Florence what the Pincio 
is to Rome. There, in the late afternoon, 
society drives back and forth along the 
bank of the Arno, listening to the music 
of a military band. 

W w W W W* ^ 

It is of little consequence how the artist 

83 



BY THE WAY 

gives expression to his dream — whether 
by pencil, pen, brush, chisel or voice, in 
marble, painting, song or story — Florence 
is the home of them all. 

And Fiesole, ah, Fiesole by moonlight 1 
I have walked up the Fiesolian Hill, and 
taken the little eledric tram, but last night 
I took you with me in a carriage. The 
others did not know you were there, so 
you and I "cuddled down" on the back 
seat. You held my hand and said never a 
word, but by that same blessed silence I 
knew you were drinking in the beauty of 
it all. 

As the strong horses pulled up the 
mountainside, you and I looked back at 
Florence. She lay off in the distant shad- 
ows, with the Arno at her feet — the Arno, 
no longer a yellow, muddy stream, but a 
glistening, silvery ribbon, with the moon- 
beams dancing merrily on its phantom- 
like bridges. The towers and turrets were 
transformed into marble lace; the statues to 
golden cupids; the chimney-tops formed 
bas-reliefs ; and the whole, a misty shadow- 
pidture. Even Florence was improved by 
the witchery of " that old man in the 
moon." The silvery unrealness of it cast 
a spell over us, making — 

84 




STAIRWAY BARGEI.LO PALACE, FLORENCE. 



ITALY 

* * * The longing heart yearn for 
Some one to love, and to be 
Beloved of some one. 

That's why I took you with me. 

When the top was reached we looked 
only at the fairyland in the distance. It is 
difficult to ideaUze an ordinary little vil- 
lage, even if it be Tuscan, and this one 
has nothing to recommend it but a cathe- 
dral and some pidluresque beggars. 

Returning another way, we passed Boc- 
caccio's villa, and in fancy saw his merry 
party of lords and ladies seated in the 
arbors looking out toward La Bella Fi- 
renza over the now golden River Arno. 

Thus it was I left you in Florence. I 
could not find you when Ruth called out, 
" Are you going back with the cab, honey ? " 

VENICE: 

Tf Florence was left behind in a memory 
-*- of purple mist, the highroad between 
it and Bologna would awaken the most 
poetic. The word "highroad" is a little 
creation of my own in this connexion, but 
I feel sure you will believe it to be " high " 
when I tell you that Florence lies at the 
foot of the Apennines and Bologna at the 
summit ; and that the railway is, by some 

85 



BY THE WAY 

miracle of engineering, built up through 
and around these mountains. We threaded 
forty-five tunnels, swung around number- 
less viadudls, crawled over heart-stilling 
trestleworks connecting one peak with an- 
other, and finally came out on top, much 
dirty and more tired. 

We arrived in Venice at I2 o'clock, 
midnight, at the full of the moon. It can- 
not be compared with my Florentine 
dream, for while they are both exquisitely 
lovely, they are different. There is nothing 
on earth quite like Venice by moonlight. 

All things lose perspective at close range, 
or in the glare of the sun's rays, and Ven- 
ice shares this disenchantment. It matters 
little what or how much one has read of 
Venice — to realize its charm, its color 
scheme and its uniqueness it must be ex- 
perienced. For Venice is not a thing, it is 
an experience. 

We owned a gondola, — for a week. We 
lived in it, and I, sometimes, slept in it 
while we were being wafted from one place 
to another. 

There is the usual — oh, no! there is 
nothing usual in Venice — cathedral, as in 
all cities, but St. Mark's stands out first 
and forever as The Church of all churches. 

86 




< O H 

w > a 

> 

o 



ITALY 

My first glimpse of this pile of precious 
stones was unexpedled and most dramatic 
to me. 

There were no letters that morning, and 
I was just walking — I did not care where 
or on what. What's beauty and loveliness 
compared to One letter ? An arcade blocked 
the way, and not knowing — not caring — 
where it led, I passed in and through it. 
Chancing to look up, I found myself in 
the light of day, and straight before me, 
ablaze with the sunlight full on its fa9ade, 
was a strud:ure of lavish Oriental magnifi- 
cence. 

"What is that?" I cried aloud. 

"San Marco!" answered a number of 
soft, musical voices in unison; and there 
stood by my side a little crowd of Italians, 
their dark eyes sparkling and white teeth 
showing, evidently pleased at my adoration. 

" San M-ahr-co, San M-ahr-co ! " they 
drawled in delight. For once their pleas- 
ure was real ; they did not break the spell 
upon me by holding out the hand for a 
pourboire, 

St. Mark's is Moorish in design, and 
has a coloring both gorgeous and subdued. 
The richness of jewels and costly stones 
does not seem out of place here as in many 

87 



BY THE WAY 

Roman churches. Nothing could be too 
precious, too sumptuous, too rare, for this 
temple magnificent. 

The piazza of St. Mark's is a square 
paved with trachyte and marble. It has 
the church on one side, and on the other 
sides, old white marble palaces, in the 
arcades of which are now found shops of 
world-wide renown. The piazzetta leads 
one, between the Doge's palace and Li- 
breria Vecchia, to the Grand Canal. 

Every evening a military band plays in 
the square, and it is like a vast, open-air 
drawing-room with a huge masquerade 
ball in full tilt. 

We climbed the Campanile and saw, be- 
sides a beautiful sunset, the Alps, the 
Adriatic, and in the dim distance the Is- 
trian Mountain rising out of the sea. 

With but a day to give to Venice, or 
with a year at your disposal, there is only 
one thing to do — dream! Whether you 
rest in a gondola on the Lagune, drifting 
past the Bridge of Sighs, the Rialto, the 
Ghetto, or the Lido, listening to the gon- 
dolier calling out the names of the palaces 
as the boat glides by, or whether you stroll 
idly through the miles of churches and 
galleries containing the paintings, or sit in 

88 



ITALY 

wondering awe before the vast area of 
mosaics in St. Mark's — it matters little — 
dream ! 

In truth, one cannot well avoid it, amid 
the " subtle, variable, inexpressible color- 
ing of transparent alabaster, of polished 
Oriental marbles and of lusterless gold," 
as Ruskin puts it. 

AU BORD DU LAC COMO: 

TTEAVENS ! Just think of me writing 
-^ -^ " Como '* at the top of my letters ! I 
have pinched myself to see if I am really 
here. The unreality of it all recalls what 
Mr. Howells said after reading Ruskin: 
" Just after reading his description of St. 
Mark's, I, who had seen it every day for 
three years, began to doubt its existence." 
So I am beginning to doubt my own 
existence. 

The morning we left Venice I was 
nearly arrested by a man in a cocked hat, 
all on account of two other men in sailor 
hats. In short, I overstepped the etiquette 
of the gondolier most woefully. Our train 
left at the fetching hour of six, so I made 
an appointment with our trustworthy Pie- 
tro to come for us in time. I think I have 
told you that the word *^ haste" is an un- 

89 



BY THE WAY 

known quantity here, and when Pietro 
was not at the door ten minutes before the 
time to start, I had the clerk call another 
gondola. As we were about to step into 
the boat, Pietro was seen drifting idly 
toward our hotel. 

He wasn't very indolent when he saw 
what was going on, and those two "sun- 
sets " ( I think that is my own, for in a 
sunset, do you not see the day-go ? ) danced 
several kinds of jigs up and down and 
sidewise before me. Several others came 
to their assistance, among them the afore- 
said cocked-hatted individual. 

I told the clerk to tell them that I 
wished to conform to the rules, and to 
settle it their way. A summer breeze could 
not have been calmer than all became in 
the twinkling of an eye, but the cause of 
the calm was apparent when I settled the 
bill. Their understanding of "settling it 
their own way'* was to pay each of them, 
including the cocked-hat, but that was 
better than languishing in a dungeon for 
ever so little a time, nest-ce-pas, mon cher? 

Since then Milan has been visited- — 
Milan, with its mammoth marble cathe- 
dral, done in Irish-point pattern and with 
a papier-macM interior — but beautiful 

90 



ITALY 

withal. Several days were spent at Me- 
naggio on this lovely lake; another at 
Villa Carlotta, where Canova's original and 
divinely beautiful marble, " Cupid and 
Psyche/' stands in all its purity; many 
more, sailing up and down these enchant- 
ing waters, made green by the refledion of 
the forest on the mountains surrounding, 
and by the grounds of the wealthy Milan- 
ese, whose summer villas line its banks. 

Vineyards are scattered along the moun- 
tainside in terraces, and the brilliant green 
of the chestnut and walnut trees is blended 
with the dull grayish green of the olive 

and laurel. 

•St * * * * * 

Lake Lugano and Lake Maggiore are 
beautiful sheets of water, but they lack the 
romantic atmosphere of Como. I can re- 
call no other description so pleasing to the 
heart as well as to the fancy as the eulogy 
to these lakes in Mrs. Ward's " Lady 
Rose's Daughter." 

DOMODOSSOLA: 

RURAL Italy, to be appreciated, must be 
seen by tram, by boat, by steam, by 
old-fashioned diligence, and on foot. Its 
lakes and mountains, its valleys and vine- 

91 



BY THE WAY 

yards, have been a source of continual sur- 
prise to me, and it is with a feeling of 
keenest regret that our last place in Italy 
is reached. I feel with Browning as I say 
farewell to — 

"Italy, my Italy ! 

* * * * * 

Open my heart and you will icc 
Graven inside of it, 'Italy'.'* 



92 



SWITZERLAND 



Fair S'witzerlandy thou art my themcy 
Thy praise by day^ by night my dream. 
My sivelling heart ivith rapture speah; 
I lo've thy lakes and snoiv-capped peaks. 
Thy ivooded glens my thought recalls^ 
Thy mountain paths and luaterfalls. 
With praises I my -verse adorn 
Of Jungfrau and the Matter horn. 
Thy moon-lit nights and sun-lit days. 
For thee in songj my voice I raise. 
Thy name for right and freedom stand — 
/ love thee^ dear old Sivitzerland. 



Roland Phelps Marks. 



A- 



LUCERNE: 

H, Kate ! dear old friend of my child- 
hood! How little I thought that night 
in June, when you stood up and told the 
audience, " Beyond the Alps lies Italy," 
that some day those same Alps would lie 
between us. We have not only been " be- 
yond," but over them. 

•H- 45- 45- -X- ^S- * 

The soft pink glow of the early dawn 
hung over the village of Domodossola as 
the start was made for Switzerland. 

Our caravan consisted of four diligences, 
two luggage vans, and a mounted guide, 

93 



BY THE WAY 

who knew every inch of the pass. He 
galloped from coach to coach, hurling his 
instrudions to occupants and drivers. 

Above the blowing of horns, the ringing 
of bells, and the answering shouts from 
the coaches, this guide's last command rang 
out loud and clear: " Keep close together! 
Follow me ! Come ! " 

It was all as uncertain as life itself. How 
blindly and with what enthusiasm we enter 
the race, knowing nothing of what the day 
may bring! 

The creaking diligences started away 
with their freight of human souls, to fol- 
low — follow to what? God only knows. 

Again, as in life — up and up, on and 
on, higher and higher — until the summit 
is reached at noon-day, and as the shadows 
lengthened in the waning of the day, we 
began the descent. 

That morning as the purple village was 
left behind, the road grew narrow and 
clung close to the mountainside. So close 
it was, did we but stretch the hand ever so 
little, we would touch its ruggedness. 
Sometimes the road widened into a moun- 
tain village, but ever and always on the 
other side was the deep, dark abyss. It 
varied in depth and blackness, or was 

94 



SWITZERLAND 

filled with some mountain torrent, but the 
gloorri was always there. 

The mountains themselves often smiled 
down on us, or laughed outright, as some 
sparkling, bubbling cascade could no longer 
keep within the channel time had worn 
for it in the rocky slope; yet the same 
rippling waterfall that had danced right 
merrily down from its snowy source, be- 
came stern and cruel after it had crossed 
the road under us and joined the somber- 
ness of the cavern. 

If the glare of the sun partially dispelled 
the glamour the moon had cast over Ven- 
ice, how vastly more does close proximity 
to the Alpine village of song and story 
dissipate its charm. As every gleam of 
sunshine must cast a shadow somewhere, 
so the splendor of the Alps must needs 
be balanced by the materiality of its in- 
habitants. 

Of the forty miles from Domodossola, 
Italy, to Brigue, Switzerland, the first ten 
perhaps are inhabited. These people live 
on the road, their huts snuggling close to 
the mountain. The little patches of ground 
that are tilled lie straight up the moun- 
tainside, and upon these sides, too, their 
sheep graze. One of the witcheries of the 

95 



BY THE WAY 

region is the tinkling of the tiny bells tied 
around the necks of the sheep. 

Before reaching Iselle, where the Cus- 
toms are paid, the longest of the Simplon 
tunnels is passed through, and a block of 
granite marks the boundary line between 
the two countries. 

Along the route the drivers had often 
to call out, that the women and children 
might make way for the coaches. The chil- 
dren, offering fruit or flowers, would run 
along with the vehicles and call out the 
little English that had been picked up: 
"Good-a-byel" "Kiss-a-mel" "Hur-rah- 
up 1 '* But the smiles soon turned to tears 
if no pennies were thrown to them. 

Sometimes in the distance there seemed 
to be a mammoth pile of rock or debris 
obstru(5ling the roadway, which, on being 
approached, was found to be part of an 
avalanche tunneled out for the passageway. 
These are termed "galleries" to distinguish 
them from the usual tunnels. 

Away up on a high point is an old 
hospice which can be reached only by pe- 
destrians, — a refuge for the mountain 
climbers. 

Far up among the clouds is a bridge 
resembling a tiny toy. Long hours after- 

96 



SWITZERLAND 

wards, when the summit of the peak is 
reached, and when the road seems to end 
abruptly, the bridge comes into view again 
spanning some yawning gulf. 

Once while crossing from one peak to 
another, the gorge below seemed filled 
with white smoke. It was the clouds. Some 
thousands of feet below, these same clouds 
had been above us — we were now above 
them. 

The sensation was awful. *' Look ! 
Look!" cried the guide, pointing down 
into the moraine. The clouds had sepa- 
rated, and the rain could be seen pouring 
on a little village far below, while the sun 
shone bright on us. 

The sunshine is not warm among these 
snow-clad peaks. It was bitterly cold. The 
crunching of the snow under the iron hoofs 
of the horses was the only sound to be 
heard. 

At the village of Simplon where lunch- 
eon was served, and where the horses were 
changed, the luggage vans were raided for 
warm wraps and rugs. 

Half a mile from the village of Simplon 
the remains of a big avalanche were en- 
countered. Men were at work clearing 
the roadway, and the guide ordered every 

97 



BY THE WAY 

one to dismount and walk across, the 
drivers leading the horses. 

When " the road grew wider," it should 
not make a mental pidlure of a broad 
roadway. It is wide only in comparison 
with the narrow mountain pass, cut out of 
the side of the cliff, making a sort of ridge 
of sufficient width to permit but one vehi- 
cle at a time. There are places cut deeper 
into the rock so that two may pass. A 
stone parapet runs along the ledge next to 
the precipice to prevent accidents should 
the wheels come too near the edge. 

At the highest point this parapet was 
broken. The workmen who were repair- 
ing the wall had been called to assist in 
clearing the lower road of the avalanche 
over which we had been obliged to walk. 

It was at this point that one of our 
horses balked. The road, so narrow that 
it scarcely permitted the passage of the 
diligence, — the parapet entirely gone for 
a distance of many feet — the gorge, deep 
and black, with a roaring torrent, too far 
down to be seen — the very heavens weep- 
ing at our misery, — here it was the horse 
chose to become unmanageable. 

The two in the box seat behind the 
driver did not realize what was happening 

98 



SWITZERLAND 

until a shriek from some one in the body 
of the coach caused the entire party to 
turn. The driver yelled, " Jump ! Jump 
toward the mountainside!" 

God grant that rarely on human sight 
may dawn such a scene, horrible only to 
those who had occupied the coach a second 
before. The back wheels were over that 
fearful ledge, the diligence just tottering. 
One moment more, made heavy by its 
human load, one quiver of the now terri- 
fied beasts, and the whole would have been 
engulfed in the depths of that seething 
torrent. 

We had jumped at the first word of 
command — jumped as one body. One 
second and it would have been too late. 
And the old coach, relieved of its burden, 
had balanced itself in an almost human 
manner, as if it, too, clung to life. 

We stood crouching away from the 
gorge against the wet side of the rock, the 
driver unnerved, one horse unruly and the 
leader balky. The entire cavalcade had 
begun the descent, and there was no stop- 
ping when once under way until a valley 
was reached some seven miles below. There 
was nothing to do but wait, and pray that 
the guide would miss us and send help. 

99 



BY THE WAY 

The awesomeness of that scene had time 
to imprint itself on my very soul, for the 
hours spent on that Alpine peak I count 
as the most stirring years of my life. 

Help came, or I should not be writing 
this. But, grateful and overjoyed as we 
were to see a fresh horse and two men on 
its back coming to our aid, the result was 
even more terrifying than the past experi- 
ence. 

The guide had missed us when, as was 
his wont, at the first stop, he galloped back 
from coach to coach. Fortunately it was 
near a hospice, where he procured two men 
and a powerful horse, and sent them after 
us. Surely God had — 

'* One arm 'round thee. 
And one 'round me. 
To keep us near." 

The driver and his helper had hardly 
dismounted from the back of the new horse 
when the wild creature reared around, and 
started on a mad gallop down the slope. 
He tripped, thank heavens, on a strap 
that had become loosened from his trap- 
pings, and was caught. 

That the new driver was a fiend was 
apparent from the cruel manner in which 

I oo 



SWITZERLAND 

he treated the runaway. I am still uncer- 
tain what his excuse was for living. He 
was so hideous he was unique. After he 
had pounded the horses he turned his 
attention to the passengers. 

Ruth and I were ordered out of the box 
seat into the coach. It was impossible to 
crowd us all inside, and he was obliged to 
submit to our remaining above. The hood 
was closed, the boot drawn up, and we were 
strapped securely to our seats. The doors 
were locked on those inside. These were 
his instructions from the guide. 

The three drivers mounted in front of 
us, and, while we were thankful to be in 
the open air and to be able to view the 
wonderful scenery around us, we were also 
compelled to witness the inhuman treat- 
ment of the animals. 

In this manner we began the descent. 

The fiend had the reins and the long 
whip, the others had prods, and used them 
on the horses. The fresh horse took the 
lead, dragging the others after him. On, 
and on, and on we flew, now under wild- 
roaring cataradls, whose waters thundered 
down on the rocky roof of the tunnels 
under them — now over frail bridges, which 
trembled with our speed — now down slip- 

lOI 



BY THE WAY 

pery, ice-covered stretches. They did not 
stop at the first plateau, fearing, I suppose, 
they would never get the horses started 
again. 

The fiendish shouts of the drivers, the 
cries of the occupants locked inside the 
coach, the swaying and groaning of the old 
diligence, and the almost human moans of 
the horses blended with the warning cries 
of the natives, who stood aside, aghast at 
our mad speed. 

Down, down, down ! The white peaks 
grow fainter and fainter, until they are lost 
in the blue mist. The incline becomes less 
steep. The little farms look like window- 
panes set up in air, and the sun sinks be- 
hind the purple mountains. The beautiful 
valley of the Rhone spreads out below, 
like a celestial vision. 

Suddenly, after a long curve has been 
rounded, the Rhone, bathed in a flood of 
golden fire, comes into view. Across the 
yawning gulf the mountains, on the other 
side, take on the same glorious hue. 

It is the Alpine glow! 

Yet on and down we go, never stopping 
the wild pace until the horses dash into 
the courtyard of the inn at Brigue ! 

We had crossed the Alps ! 

I02 



SWITZERLAND 
We were in Switzerland ! 

W w w tVT vP w 

Switzerland is one of the places whose 
charm is enhanced by the glare of the sun. 
But Switzerland does not have many op- 
portunities to endure glare of anything, for 
it rains almost continually. The "weeping 
skies of Ireland" cannot compare with it. 

Lake Geneva, as it winds around Lau- 
sanne, is extremely pretty, and Lake Lu- 
cerne has quite the most pid:uresque 
surroundings possible. It nestles down 
among the Alps, with Rigi on one side 
and the beautiful town on the other. And 
Lucerne is a beautiful town, built in a 
curve in the Alps, with towers and battle- 
ments on its walls. Sailing away from it, 
it presents a pidlure altogether different 
from anything else I have seen. 

It took some days for me to recover 
from that mad ride down the mountains. 
After the effedis of it had passed, I could 
but think how very near the ludicrous is 
the sublime. 

Death by climbing up or falling down 
these Alpine heights would be, perhaps, 
romantic; but to be backed over a preci- 
pice by a common balky horse could not 
be otherwise than ignominious. 

103 



BY THE WAY 

Now, too, I recall some of those sense- 
less questions women ask. One woman 
cried, " Oh, where will we go if that har- 
ness breaks ? " 

" We will go right on from the heights 
to which our thoughts have risen," an- 
swered a beautiful voice from within the 
diligence. It was Mrs. F.'s friend, she who 
had first told her how foolish it was to 
live a lie. Now I know why the old coach 
had kept up. 



104 



HOLLAND 
AND BELGIUM 

Holland and Belgium 

Are countries quite funny ^ 
Their Art is a joy, 

But a bete noire their money. 

AMSTERDAM : 

T HAVE acSlually found some places that I 
-*■ do not like, and it is well, for I have 
used up all my adjedlives and exclama- 
tions. I did not care for Zurich, and many 
of the Rhine towns found no favor in my 
eyes. I saw most of them only from the 
river about which we have heard so much 
that, naturally, it failed in the realization 
of my anticipations, — besides, it rained 
much of the time. 

I overheard a conversation between two 
American girls on the boat up- — or down — 
the Rhine. Every time I say "up" the 
other person says, " Down, was n't it?" 
and when I change it to " down," I am 
asked, " Up, was n*t it ? " 

The first girl was saying, in a strenuous 
manner, "I saw EVERYchurch in Rome! " 



BY THE WAY 



Ah, indeed ! How long a time did you 
spend in Rome ? You know, do you not, 
that there are over four hundred churches 
there ? " sarcastically asked the other. 

" Four hundred ! " shouted the first girl, 
never noticing the sarcasm, " four hundred ! 
ril bet I tramped through a thousand!'* 

I can sympathize with that first girl. 

The cathedral at Cologne is very fine. 
It is built in two distind: styles of archi- 
tecture. The legend runs that the first 
archited: sold his soul to the devil for 
plans unlike any other church in the world. 
When he had it half finished he disap- 
peared, and the plans with him. 

I suppose he and the devil became too 
well acquainted with each other, and per- 
haps he ran in to see him every day — 
which is enough to tire even the devil him- 
self — so he put the architedt out of the 
way. Be that the case or not, the church 
was commenced in 1248, and finished only 
recently in a modern fashion. 

^ ^ 45" % w w 

What a difference it makes to have a 
friend residing in a foreign city ! I posted 
a letter to Marie from Cologne, and as I 
was breakfasting the morning of my ar- 
rival here her visiting-card was brought to 

106 



HOLLAND AND BELGIUM 

me. She has made our stay in this quaint 
city a bright green spot in the oasis of 
hotel life and hustling for oneself. 

She has driven us over this picturesque 
old town and taken us to the palaces, and 
to the Royal Rijks Museum. We have 
walked with her through her favorite 
haunts in the parks. She has made a mar- 
tyr of herself and shown us through the 
shops, — and have you ever heard of the 
lovely shops of Amsterdam ? But, best of 
all, we have had a bit of home life, and 
Marie, bless her heart! has given us the 
first cup of real coffee we have had since 
we left home. 

w w w W w w 

I cannot tell you much in detail about 
the splendid school of art here, for — let 
me whisper it to you — I did not get a 
guide-book of Holland. Marie and her 
good husband left little for us to glean. 
But this I do know, that, in all our travels, 
no more comprehensive and beautiful col- 
lediion of art treasures have we found. 

The building itself is magnificent, and 
the masterpieces are all Flemish. Rubens' 
"Helena Fourment,*' Rembrandt's "The 
Night Watch," and a portrait by Van 
Dyke are among those which I recall. 

107 



BY THE WAY 

Holland is a quaintly pi(5hiresque coun- 
try. Everything that Mr. F. Hopkinson 
Smith, that exquisite word-etcher as well 
as painter, has said of it is true. 

But the language ! And the money ! Oh, 
the money is impossible. 

Now, I call Ruth a brilliant woman, 
and one vastly above the average intelled- 
ually; and you know that, while I'm not 
an expert accountant, I can do " sums " 
once in a while. Well, neither of us has 
learned to pronounce, nor do we yet know, 
the value of the thing which takes the place 
oi th.Q franc. It is spelled g-u-l-d~e-n — 
most Americans call it gilder^ but it is no 
more like that than it is like "horse." In 
fad:, it is not unlike the last word, when a 
native gets his tongue around it. 

As to its value ! I have taken goods for 
it to the value of a penny and of a half- 
dollar. I simply take the change given me 
and go. The other, like Thoreau's friend, 
has both the first word and the last. How 
awful ! A woman can never talk back in 
this language. 

BRUSSELS : 

T7LBERT Hubbard tells, in one of his 

'■-' " Little Journeys,'' how, when his ship 

io8 



HOLLAND AND BELGIUM 

landed in Antwerp at eleven o'clock in the 
morning, he walked to the hotel and awak- 
ened the landlord from his early morning 
nap in order to get some breakfast. I can- 
not speak from experience as to what hour 
they arise, but I do know, from very close 
association with the people, that they do 
not know what sort of money they use. 

At the door of the cathedral, where we 
went to see Rubens* chef-d'ceuvre, "The 
Descent from the Cross," the woman at 
the door refused to take one of those coins 
of which I do not know the value; but 
when I tried a Httle dramatic adion, and 
turned to go, she took it very readily, and 
permitted us to enter. The same scene 
was enac5led at the door of the really ex- 
quisite museum; but it did not work at 
the station. 

We were using all our Belgian coins be- 
fore going into France, and had saved 
enough for the porters at the station where 
we had left our hand luggage. The porter 
who brought our luggage from the train 
into the station had accepted the coin we 
gave him. The one we secured to carry 
them out to the train had reached our 
compartment, and demanded his money. 

I counted out the coins. He refused 

109 



BY THE WAY 

them. We had no other money. I ten- 
dered him a book, and finally my watch. 
He still refused, and would not permit us 
to put the things in the compartment. 
There was no woman in sight, and foreign 
men are so different from our countrymen 
that we could not bring ourselves to ask 
aid from them ; besides, we did not speak 
Flemish. 

It was absolutely necessary for us to 
reach Brussels that night, and had we gone 
back to get the money changed, it would 
have necessitated our remaining over Sun- 
day in Antwerp, where we had exhausted 
everything of interest. We were becoming 
desperate, when good fortune smiled on us 
in the form of a pair of girlish black eyes. 

I asked her if she spoke English. She 
shook her head. 

^^ Parlez vous FrarK^aisV^ and, oh, joy, 
^^Mais un peu,'' she replied. 

I made known our dilemma, and she 
very sweetly settled with the fa^leur for 
about half the amount he had demanded 
of me. 

Who shall say there is not a free ma- 
sonry among women ? There, in a strange 
country, with not a cent of that country's 
coinage in my pocket, knowing no word 

I lo 



HOLLAND AND BELGIUM 

of its language, came to my assistance a 
woman of yet another country, speaking 
nor understanding no word of my mother 
tongue, and, in yet another language, which 
we both spoke indifferently, I asked and 
she gave aid with that same grave polite- 
ness which marks the noblesse oblige every- 
where. 

The next morning, dressed in our brav- 
est, we had the concierge call the shiniest 
cab he could find, with the tallest-hatted 
cocher, and with the loveliest basket of 
roses that could be procured, we drove in 
state to the address she had given us. We 
had a cordial greeting, but somehow I 
fancy she had been in doubt as to whether 
or not she would ever see those ^t^ francs 
again. 

You may rest assured that we have had 
sufficient money changed here, and that 
we have found numerous ways in which 
to spend it. Next to Venice, the lace shops 
are the finest in the world. 



Ill 



Part II. 



The sea ! the sea ! the open sea ! 

The blue, the fresh, the ever-free ! 

Without a marky without a bound. 

It runneth the earth 'j- wide regions round ; 

It plays with the clouds, it mocks the skies. 

Or like a cradled creature lies. 

I never was on the dull, tame shore. 
But I loved the great sea more and more ; 
And backward few to her billowy breast. 
Like a bird that seeketh its mother"* s nest. 

Barry Cornwall. 



GREECE 

ComCf come ivith me to the Isles of Greece^ 
And on o'er the seas to its golden shore ^ 
Pause not till you reach Athenians croivn^ 
Then mount to its heaven-domed Parthenon. 
Its glories ivill feed your musing hourSy 
When fame has dioindled to cheap renown. 

Tt is a far cry from the Bowery to the 
-■' Bosporus, but only a few obstacles, such 
as the Atlantic, the Mediterranean, the 
Adriatic and the Sea of Marmora, inter- 
vene. We had overcome two of these so 
that it was from Brindisi, Italy, the end of 
the Appian Way, that we embarked for 
Greece. 

I expeded to find tall, willowy maidens 
in Grecian draperies standing on the banks 
of Corfu waving golden lyres to welcome 
me to these fair Ionian Islands, with mighty 
warriors back of them proclaiming of their 
ancestors; instead, I found a pretty little 
island covered with blossoms, in the midst 
of which is the magnificent Villa Achilleion 
ereded for Empress Elizabeth of Austria. 

One would never dream that the lazy 
sailors found along the shores of this hilly 

"5 



BY THE WAY 

isle were descendants of those old Greeks 
who fought the first naval battle 2600 
years ago, off its coast. 

One must be a good pedestrianj for even 
with the excellent roads it is necessary to 
climb on foot to the lookout if one would 
have a survey of the island and its sur- 
roundings. I reached it just in time to see 
the sun sink, all gold and orange, into the 
green liquid of the Adriatic. 

If Corfu gives one a flowery welcome to 
the Isles of Greece, the mainland keeps up 
the cordiality. Patras, its first port, a dig- 
nified, progressive little city, was not be- 
hind its island sister in greeting us. Its 
historic neighbor, Olympia, is reached by 
a bridle path, and the two days* journey 
will give one a better insight into the man- 
ners and customs of the ancient Greeks 
than months spent in a modern city. 
Many of the inhabitants along this path 
have never visited their nearest village. 

The road between Patras and Athens — 
my heart throbs now at the mere writing 
of the name "Athens," just as it did 
when I first took my seat in the train for 
that classic city — is different from any- 
thing else on earth, for almost all the way 
to the ship canal which crosses the Isth- 

116 




tr' m ^ fd '^ (^ m >^ 'i 



^gSoscS 



O O 13 



GREECE 

mus of Corinth the mountainsides are 
strewn with currants, drying in the sun on 
beds of white pebbles. All the dried cur- 
rants, originally called "grape of Corinth/' 
come from this part of the Levant. 

ATHENS : 

Full many a bard of thy strong walls has sung. 
Full many a hand has sketched thy fair outline; 

But none can sing nor paint all that thou art. 
To earnest, loving, simple hearts like mine. 

T FEEL now as though the scratching of 
-*• my pen were sacrilege, just as I first tread 
softly on this sacred soil and would start 
when I heard some one laugh aloud. I 
cannot tell you of the deep impression 
Athens has^made upon me. 

If you were here where I could touch 
your hand and, without one word being 
spoken, we could stand and drink in all 
its grandeur, or sit in silence by moonlight 
watching the shadows come and go, you 
would understand — but to put Athens in 
cold black and white, ah, never ask me to 
try. 

The new Athens, like Florence, is broad 
and white, but not glistening. The old 
Athens — my Athens — lies yonder on the 
hill, a mass of monstrous rocks, gigantic 

117 



BY THE WAY 

pillars and huge squares of stone which 
some mighty tempest or some avalanche 
seems to have scattered hither and yon. 

It was by the light of the moon that 
the vastness of the Acropolis impressed 
itself upon me, though the immensity of 
purpose — the Herculean obstacles sur- 
mounted — rather than its ponderous pro- 
portions, creates its magnitude. But it was 
just as the day was dawning that its love- 
liness appeared to me. 

I have been to the Acropolis with a 
registered cicerone who knew every stone 
of it, and again with a fine young Greek 
who loved every atom of it, but today at 
dawn I stood there alone and watched the 
sun come up seemingly from beneath my 
feet. No sound broke the stillness. All 
nature was hushed that I might bid my 
beloved Athens farewell. There she lay 
outspread before me, bathed in the first 
faint glow of the early dawn. Far down is 
the Porte Beule and the marble staircase 
from it to the Propylaea, one of whose 
courts leads to that diminutive jewel, the 
Temple of Nike, with its Pentelic marble 
grown yellow with age. 

Before the sun had climbed above the 
mountain, I watched the purple marble of 

ii8 




THE ACROPOLIS AS IT WAS 

THE ACROPOLIS AS IT IS 

THE TEMPLE OF THESEUS IN FOREGROUND 



GREECE 

the Erechtheion turn to gold, giving a 
rosy glow of youth to the Maidens of the 
Caryatides portico who have held up their 
canopy for two thousand years. Always 
before the eye, tall and commanding, in all 
its perfedlion, stands the Parthenon. Off 
yonder is Mars Hill, and far beyond, the 
Temple of Theseus, its weather-stained, 
golden-hued marbles, that have braved the 
storms of centuries, exhaling a vigorous 
vitality. 

As the sun climbed over the hilltop my 
heart grew heavy at the thought of part- 
ing with Athens. In a few hours I would 
be leaving her, perhaps forever. But Ath- 
ens — Athens over whom I wept — slept on. 

* * 45- * * * 

I came back to earth and went to Pi- 
raeus in a very " earthy " eledlric tram — 
think of desecrating Athens with a trolley 1 



119 



TURKEY 

The cloud-capp' d toivers^ 

The gorgeous palaces^ 

The solemn temples. 

Shaksperje^ The Tempest^ 
Act IV, Scene I, Line 153. 

CONSTANTINOPLE: 

DURING the early hours of yesterday 
morning we reached Smyrna, one of 
the seven cities spoken of in the Book of 
Revelation, and we spent the day in its 
odd, underground bazaars. Wildness, mad- 
ness and fiendishness have lost their ter- 
rors for me since landing at Smyrna. 

Imagine all the wild animals of the zoo 
put together in one cage and all roaring 
at the same time and you will have some 
idea of the sound that greeted my ears as 
our ship dropped anchor. Then look over 
the rail and, as far as the eye can see, pic- 
ture rowboats by the hundreds, so thickly 
crammed together that scarcely a bit of 
the water can be seen. Watch the oars- 
man pushing another boat or beating his 
brother boatman over the head with his 
oar, each of them yelling at the top of his 

120 




on <v u V t->' 

^ 2 i « 5 2 






TURKEY 

voice, and you will have a dim outline of 
what really happened. All had the same 
obje6t in view — that of getting as many 
passengers as they could carry, and as soon 
as possible. 

Our dragoman turned us over to a 
Turkish guide who proved to be a scholar 
and a Christian. 

The bazaars are filthy, but the filth 
simply serves to make prominent by con- 
trast the beautiful embroideries and laces 
displayed there. If one dares to give more 
than a passing glance at any of these, the 
old Turks will follow trying to force a 
purchase. 

To think that Homer should have 
chosen Smyrna for his birthplace ! Yet it 
was and still is the most important city of 
Asia Minor, and is pidhiresquely situated 
on the iEgean Sea. 

When we finally reached the ship, after 
the oarsmen's battles en route during which 
I had sat still with my eyes closed think- 
ing hard, our Christian Turk came up to 
me, and, to my surprise and delight, whis- 
pered: "We know why we are safe, do 
we not?" 

I wonder if he understood that the tears 
in my eyes were not from fear? 

121 



BY THE WAY 

The same scene of the boatman was 
ena6led at the Dardenelles. Later, how^ 
ever, all the harsh things were forgotten, 
as over a foreground of blue sea the dim 
outline of a city was seen through the mist 
of the morning. 

No one can call Constantinople beauti- 
ful, but all must admit that it is the most 
interesting city in Europe. Unique in be- 
ing situated in both Europe and Asia, the 
city is divided, like Gaul, into three parts -^ 
Stamboul and Galata-Pera, separated from 
each other by the Golden Horn, in Europe, 
and Skutari across the Bosporus, in Asia. 

Galata is the modern business sedlion 
containing the banks, steamship offices, 
commission houses and the like, while 
Pera is on the heights above it with the 
hotels, the embassies and the homes of 
the foreigners. 

Stamboul, or Constantinople proper, is 
situated on seven hills, on one of which 
stood the ancient city of Byzantium. Here 
are the old seraglio and Santa Sophia, — 
Santa Sophia, with its altars of gold, mo- 
saics of precious stones, pillars of rare 
marble, its wonderful history and its an- 
tiquity. 

Between the mountain and the sea, in 

122 



TURKEY 

Skutari, nestles the cluster of buildings 
occupied by the American College for girls, 
the only college for women in the western 
Levant, When you learn through what 
vicissitudes I achieved my entree to this 
cosmopolitan hole^ you will wonder that I 
write of it with any degree of composure, 
or that I am here to write of it at all. 

Everything seemed so perfectly planned 
for a comfortable and safe little journey 
from the hotel in Pera to Skutari, that I 
followed the attendant without question. 
He placed me in a caique ( ki-eek) putting 
me in charge of the caiquejee (ki-eek-gee), 
saying that in a few moments this man 
would land me at the place where my 
American friend was in waiting on the 
other side. 

A caique is a long narrow skiff with 
cushions in the bottom upon which one 
must sit quietly else the boat will tip. My 
caiquejee and his assistant seemed very 
mild sort of Turks, for they would nod 
and smile when I waved my hand at 
something odd or interesting. 

I was not versed then in the etiquette 
of the caiquejee, nor yet in the mysteries 
of their thousand and one superstitions, 
but I found, to my sorrow, that to touch 

123 



BY THE WAY 

even the hem of another caiquejee's oar 
was the signal for ordering guns or any 
other explosive at hand, including vocal 
fireworks. 

It was bright and sunny when I left the 
hotel, but a storm cloud soon appeared 
and it grew darker and darker. In their 
haste to reach the other shore, my caique- 
jee happened to run into another caique, 
which in any other place on earth would 
have been overlooked with a bow of excuse. 

Not so on the Bosporus! My mild- 
mannered Turks and the three in the other 
caique were at battle in a second. Had 
I been able to speak their language, and 
offer them money, they could not have 
heard me, so horrible were their cries. 
There was nothing to do but to sit still 
and pray and try to balance the shell-like 
caique. 

Suddenly my caiquejee raised his heavy 
oar to fling it at the other, lost his balance, 
and we were all dashed into the cold water 
of the Bosporus. 

Instantly the clatter ceased. Some one 
held me up in the water, and guided the 
upturned boat toward my hands. After the 
longest moments of my life, the other 
heavier caique was caught and balanced 

124 



TURKEY 

while I was dragged into it. It was then 
I noticed there were but four of us where 
there had been six. 

I did not cry then^ but tried to know I 
was being cared for. I afterwards learned 
that it was my silence that saved me. Had 
I cried or screamed they would have 
thrown me overboard again and gone away 
without me, for there is a superstition about 
tears in a storm, and where a woman is con- 
cerned all signs are of an adverse nature. 

Suddenly one of the Turks gave a 
blood-curdling yell to attrad the attention 
of the pilot on the little steamer that plies 
between Skutari and the Galata Bridge. 

I was helped on board and cared for. 
No woman could have been more kind, 
more respedful, or more solicitous for my 
comfort than were these young Turks. 
They formed a ring around me sheltering 
me from the gaze of the rougher, older 
ones. They put their capes about me 
while they dried my coat, hat and shoes, 
and shielded my face as I stood by the 
engine door to dry my skirt. 

The young Turk who had held me up 
in the water could speak a little French, 
and made me understand that I was per- 
fectly safe and that he would see me to my 

125 



BY THE WAY 

carriage. He told me that he was a pas- 
senger in the caique which collided with the 
one I was in, and that a caiquejee from each 
boat went down in the battle. 

When you read some dramatic account 
of the varied fancies that are supposed to 
pass through the thoughts of one who is 
drowning, take it cum grano salis. Believe 
me, the one and only thought that takes 
possession of a poor mortal at such a time 
is to grasp something with his hands, and 
if this is accomplished, his next desire is 
to feel something solid beneath his feet. 
His past is nothing, his future less. The 
present is all there is of human existence. 
Oh, how well I know this to be true ! 

I tried to show my gallant Turk the 
gratitude I felt for his efforts in my behalf. 
He informed me that I could repay him 
by speaking a word for his countrymen, 
if the occasion arose. I can see his dark 
face now light up with pleasure at my 
promise as he touched his forehead with 
his hand, for he had lost his fez in the 
waters. 

We parted neither of us knowing the 
other's name, but no word against the ris- 
ing generation of Turks can ever be said 
in my presence since that night. 

126 




THE GALATA BRIDGE, CONSTANTINOPLE 

BY PERMISSION OF DR, LEEPER 
COPYRIGHT BY DR. LEEPER 



TURKEY 

I did not rest long undisturbed among 
the cushions of the carriage he found for 
me, for my driver who had gone on at a 
good speed suddenly stopped in the steep- 
est, darkest part of the almost perpendicu- 
lar incline that leads up to Pera from 
Galata, and, turning, showed me a coin, 
demanding something at the same time. 
I divined that he was asking if I would 
pay him that much, and I, with my cheeri- 
est smile, nodded. But as he turned to 
gather up the reins again, I caught sight 
of his face and only the presence of my 
guardian angel, who had held my hand all 
that awful day, kept me from shrieking or 
from fainting. 

Finally we turned into the lighted street 
in which was my hotel, and I was out of 
the vi6toria, through the door and into the 
lift before the carriage had stopped. I 
called to the clerk to pay the tariff from 
\ the Galata Bridge and to give the driver 
his backsheesh. Their angry voices ascended 
with the elevator. 

When I reached my room and had 
turned the key in the lock, I sobbed out 
all my pent-up emotion and thankfulness. 

Will you credit it when I tell you that 
I started again? This time, however, I 

127 



BY THE WAY 

went on the steamboat accompanied by 

one of the American teachers from the 

college. 

* % * * * * 

In spite of the night spent on — and 
in — the black waters of the Bosporus, 
when I think of Constantinople, it is not 
of this — not of its filthy streets nor its 
thousands of pariah dogs, not of their 
howls nor the well nigh unbearable din of 
bells and yells — but of my first view of 
a phantom-like city, seated on seven hills, 
the sides covered with many-colored roofs 
which slope down to a long white kiosk, 
of minarets, of mosques with slender spires, 
and of one tall sentinel cypress tree in the 
foreground, all seen through the haze of 
dawn over Marmora's blue waters. 



128 



HUNGARY 

The 'world^s best garden. 

Shakspere, 
Henry ^., Epilogue. 

BUDAPEST : 

'T^HE Oriental Express was thundering 
-■■ around the Balkan Mountains in Bul- 
garia on its long run between Constanti- 
nople and Budapest, when suddenly, with 
a succession of sharp jerks, the train came 
to a stop. 

Before we could reach the windows, 
above the babel was heard : "An avalanche ! 
An avalanche ! The torrent's burst ! '* And 
with the throng of people at the foot of 
the mountain, it was enough to strike ter- 
ror to the stoutest heart. 

Immediately came a guard to explain 
that the long tunnel had caved in and that 
it would be necessary for us to walk across 
the mountain through which the tunnel was 
cut that we might take the train on the 
other side. The people from that train had 
walked over the pass to take our places, 
and the peasants who had carried their 
luggage were waiting to take ours back. 

129 



BY THE WAY 

One of the mountaineers adfcing as guide 
led the way up the narrow trail and down 
to the waiting train on the other side — 
perhaps two miles. 

Instead of a cross, fussy crowd of tired 
travelers grumbling at the climb, the guide 
found us a happy lot of overgrown chil- 
dren, stopping to listen to the wonderful 
singing of the birds or to pluck the wild 
flowers, whom he had often to remind 
with his shrill ^^AvanceT^ that time was 
passing. 

Among the first to descend, I looked 
back up the trail and wondered if the old 
mountain would ever again witness such a 
picture. Travelers from every nation, with 
their different costumes, mingling with the 
gaily attired peasants, who carried on their 
heads the much-labeled luggage, all laugh- 
ing, shouting or singing, made a happy 
medley both of color and of sound. 

w ^ ^ 45" w w 

Budapest is the most beautiful city of 
the world, except, perhaps, Barcelona. You 
need not look in your "Noted Places" 
book to verify this statement, for you will 
not find it there. Au contraire^ this opinion 
is my own. 

Go to Budapest, seled: a room with win- 

130 



HUNGARY 

dows giving on the Danube, and see if you 
do not agree with me. Throw the guide- 
books aside and wander down the superb 
Franz Joseph Quai. Note the battlements, 
the colossal statues of bronze, the Moor- 
ish archite(5hire united with that of the 
Romanesque. You will not find all the 
sumptuousness of Budapest on this street, 
however, for it is scattered everywhere. 

The beauty of the architecture can be 
seen by daylight, but the glory of Buda- 
pest can only be felt as you sail away, 

"Some night in June, 
Upon the Danube River.*' 



131 



w 



AUSTRIA 

jill places that the eye of heaven visits 

Are to a ivise man ports and happy havens. 

Shakspere, Richard II., 
Act I, Scene 3, Line 475. 

VIENNA : 

'E ARRIVED in Vienna with the Em- 
peror. In fad:, we adted as his advance 
guard for some time, his train following 
ours. The Emperor himself was but a 
small part of the show, for the officers 
of his suite outshone all else, and were 
swagger to a degree. German and Austrian 
army officers are imposing anywhere, but 
especially so on horseback. 

Vienna is a city within a city, for the 
fortifications which surrounded the old 
town have been torn down and replaced 
by a broad boulevard which separates the 
ancient from the modern portion. Within 
this Ring-Strasse the streets are narrow and 
the houses mediaeval ; without, you will find 
one of the most inviting cities of Europe. 

Vienna is gay, sparkling and fascinating. 
Its opera and its shops are world renowned, 

132 



AUSTRIA 

and it is a close rival of Paris in setting 
the modes. 

Nowhere in all Europe can so much 
beauty and grandeur of mountain, forest 
and stream be crowded into one day as 
during a sail on the Danube from Linz 
to Vienna. 



133 



M- 



GERMANY 

For tioiv I am in a holiday humour. 

Shakspere, jis You Like It, 
Act IV, Scene i. Line 68. 

MUNICH : 

^ INTRODUCTION to BavaHa was 
through Salzburg. It was a happy 
presentation, as few towns can compare 
with it in situation. 

Salzburg is surrounded by mountains 
with castles on every peak. It was the 
home of Mozart, and is overflowing with 
interesting memoirs of that great musician. 

Munich is a city of wealth. It is the 
Mecca for students of art and music and 
the starting-point for the three wondrous 
castles built by the Mad King of Bavaria, 
as well as for Oberammergau. Nestling 
at the foot of the Austrian Alps, a long 
chain of mountains may be seen on a clear 
day, in all its splendor, from the statue 
of Bavaria. Munich possesses a lion's 
share of public buildings architecflurally 
notable. 

134 



w 



GERMANY 
NURNBERG: 

HiLE in Munich we were entertained 
in the home of Baroness von H., 
giving us a glimpse into German intimate 
life, and here I have had the privilege 
again of being in the home of an American 
girl who married a German officer. I find 
their life ideal. 

I love Germany and the Germans. 
They move quicker than any of our for- 
eign cousins, notwithstanding the slowness 
ascribed to them in story, and there is al- 
ways something doing. 

This fancy of mine about rapidity is, I 
presume, accentuated by a hurried glimpse 
of the Empire which these German friends 
have given me. And right here let me 
say that foreigners need no longer poke 
fun at us for the "lightning condu6tor" 
manner with which some of us see the 
world. 

The itinerary took us first to Berlin; 
and dancing through my head are pictures 
of Brandenburg Gates, Sieges- Allees and 
Thiergartens ; of Charlottenburg with its 
mausoleum of the much-loved Queen 
Louise of pidlured fame ; of Potsdam with 
its Sans Souci; of Frankfort-on-Main with 
the renowned Palmen Garten; of Dres- 

135 



BY THE WAY 

den and its Academy of Arts ; of Wies- 
baden, its tourists and springs ; of Metz, 
with its Conservatory and its high-bred 
women. 

W w w w w W 

Niirnberg is unlike any other place in 
the world. I never have seen such odd 
bridges, fountains and oriel windows. It 
is the home of the Faber pencil, and leads 
the world in the manufadlure of wonderful 
toys ; and yet this busy little city has pre- 
served to a larger extent than any other 
in Germany the appearance of the Middle 
Ages. Its quiet quaintness makes it a gem. 

If you can see but one place in Ger- 
many, let it be Niirnberg. 



136 




MODERN NURNBERG 
OLD NURNBERG 



FRANCE 

Je voudrais n etre pas Francais pour pouvoir dire, — 

^«< je te cAoisiSy France^ et que 

Je te.proclame 

Ma patrie et ma gloire et man unique amour I 

Victor Hugo, A La France. 

Ohy to have been born eheioherey that I might choose 
thee J France^ and proclaim thee my country ^ my glory 
and my oivn ! 

Translation by Eleanor Everest Freer. 

PARIS: 

^T^HE captain advised us to remain on 
■^ deck while the ship was entering the 
harbor at Havre, and we were repaid for 
the midnight vigil by the brilliancy of the 
scene. The port itself is narrow, but the 
effe6t of space is given by the numerous 
basins and the canal, filled with craft and 
sails of every description. The splendid 
masonry stands out strong and beautiful 
under the multitude of eledric lights which 
line the shore on either side. 

I was surprised to find Havre so large 
and fine a city. Neither Baedeker nor 
Hare tell about its beauties nor its harbor. 
We had more time there than we had 
counted on because we missed the early 



BY THE WAY 

morning train to Rouen, but we passed it 
very pleasantly in this bright Norman city. 

It is the rural part that has made Nor- 
mandy famous, and that part which lies 
between Havre and Rouen is beautiful. 
It lies low and is checkered with little 
silver streams that flow this way and that 
through every se6tion. 

Rouen, too, keeps up the Normandy 
record for quaintness. Suzanne and I would 
have been willing to settle right down 
there and stay, but we stopped only long 
enough to see St. Ouen, one of the most 
beautiful Gothic churches in existence, and 
the Palais de Justice, which is a splendid 
copy of Belgian archite6ture. 

* % 45- * 4fr * 

I must tell you what a joy you are ! You 
have contented yourself with the daily 
post-card and the by-weekly billet-doux, 
which have been plus doux que long, I fear, 
but without the usual weekly budget. 

We have been going so fast that I think 
it wise to wait a bit and endeavor to digest 
the knowledge gained in travel before 
writing of it. As I look back over what I 
have seen in the last few months, both in 
art and nature, I realize the truth of a little 
thing I once read, taken from a letter by 

138 



FRANCE 

a well-known writer of short stones to 
William Dean Howells. 

She said that we must have some atmos- 
phere, some distance, between ourselves 
and our theme in order to get perspe6tive, 
whether one be painter or writer. So I feel 
sure that this budget will lose nothing by 
the waiting when I tell you what I have 
picked up by the way in la belle Paris, 

If you can come but once, do not come 
in July or August, the tourist season. 
Paris is a dream of beauty at all seasons, 
but the charm of any city is obscured 
when it is crowded as Paris is during those 
months. 

Come in May. Do you not remember 

what Vidor Hugo said in " Le Proscrit" ? 

**Le mois de mai sans la France, 
Ce n'est pas le mois de mai.'* 

We did a wise thing in choosing from 

among our numerous addresses a pension 

'Mowntown." It saves us time, strength 

and money. It is not one of those pensions 

Longfellow used to tell about, which had 

inscribed on its front: 

**Ici on donne a boire et a manger; 
On loge a pied et a cheval ! ' ' 

Literally, " Here we give to drink and to 
eat; we lodge on foot and on horseback." 



BY THE WAY 

Our pension only gives to eat and to lodge 
" on foot." I do not mention the drinking, 
for seldom, I find, can one get a good cup 
of coffee anywhere. The chocolate and tea 
are perfed:, however, and the little crescent- 
shaped rolls and the fresh, unsalted butter 
are delicious. 

We are on the Rue de la Bienfaisance, 
just off the Boulevard Haussman, not far 
from the beautiful ^glise Saint Augustin, 
where many of the weddings of the Paris 
four hundred are celebrated, and only a 
few minutes' walk from the Gare Saint 
Lazare. 

We call each morning for our English 
friends, who live in the Rue des Pyramides, 
near the Rue de Rivoli, at the place where 
stands the bronze statue of Jeanne d'Arc. 

The Louvre Palais, which contains the 
Musee, and the Tuileries are just across 
the Rue de Rivoli, with the Place de la 
Concorde a little farther up. The Grand 
Opera is but a few squares away, with the 
American Express office near it, and the 
Church of the Madeleine hard by. 

The Place de la Concorde is an immense 
square with mammoth pieces of sculpture 
at each corner, representing the provinces 
taken from the Germans. One of these 

140 



FRANCE 

provinces was recaptured by the Germans, 
but instead of marring the Place by re- 
moving the statue, it is kept draped with 
crepe and wreaths of flowers. In the cen- 
ter of the square is the obelisk, with foun- 
tains playing about it. 

The roads are as white as snow, both 
through and around the Place. It is framed 
in green by the Tuileries, the Champs 
Elysees, and the banks of the Seine. 

There is a view one gets right here 
which cannot, perhaps, be excelled in all 
the world. If you stand at the court of the 
Louvre in the space where the Arc de Car- 
rousal meets the Louvre Palais, and look 
through the arch, the eye catches at once 
the green of the Tuileries garden and its 
trees, the dazzling brightness of its mar- 
bles, the sparkling of its fountains, the 
obelisk, and far on through the Champs 
Elysees, the Arc de Triomphe, which 
makes a fitting finish for this most glori- 
ous vista. 

I am at loss to tell you just what to do 
with only a week in this little world, but 
let nothing deter you from coming. I 
would rather have come for one day than 
never to have seen it at all. With a week 
on your hands, and an inclination in your 

141 



BY THE WAY 

heart, you can do wonders in this the most 
fascinating city on the globe. 

Were one to be here but a short time, 
a drive over the city should occupy the 
first day. Parties are sent out every day, 
with guides who know the best routes, 
and it is not a bad idea to join one of 
them. Do not, however, go with a party 
to see interiors or the works of art, for one 
is so hurried that one scarcely knows what 
has been seen. 

As an illustration: Two young girls 
stopping at our pension joined one of these 
parties going to Versailles the same day 
that Suzanne and I went. 

We had seats on top of the steam tram 
which leaves every hour from the foot of 
the Place de la Concorde Bridge. We 
spent the entire day at Versailles, and came 
away after dark feeling that we had had 
the merest peep at the parks and gardens, 
vast with miles of marble terraces, miles 
of lime-tree bowers, fountains of gold, of 
silver and of bronze, green of all shades, 
flowers of all colors, staircases of onyx, 
paintings, sculptures and relics of untold 
value. We walked miles and had been 
driven tens of miles through the parks 
and gardens of the Grand and Petit Tria- 

142 



FRANCE 

non. We had stood by the most stupen- 
dous series of fountains the world has ever 
known. And we crawled home weary, but 
happy at heart for all this beauty, to find 
that our poor little friends had been there 
but two hours,— that they had galloped 
from place to place, catching but little, if 
anything, of the foreign names pronounced 
so differently from the way we are taught. 

Versailles is one of the places where 
there are ofHcial guides, and it pays to hire 
one by the hour. 

Of the museums, see the Luxembourg 
first, because, while the gardens are beauti- 
ful, they are not so well kept nor to be 
compared with those of the Louvre or 
Versailles. The works of art are placed in 
the Luxembourg gallery during the life- 
time of an artist, if his works merit that 
honor; if his fame lives for ten years after 
his death, they are transferred to the 
Louvre. Hence it is in the Luxembourg 
one will find the best works of living artists. 

The Louvre Musee is a vast collection 
of classified art, and occupies the palace of 
that name, any room of which will repay 
one's effort to see it. 

Just wander about alone until some 
work of art compels you to stop before it. 

143 



BY THE WAY 

Then look at your Baedeker and see if it 
is something noted. It tickles one's vanity 
to find one has sele6ted a masterpiece with- 
out having it pointed out. Speaking of 
guide-books, Baedeker is by far the best, 
and rarely fails one excepting in galleries, 
where it is impossible to keep an accurate 
list of the works of art, as they are fre- 
quently moved from room to room, or are 
loaned to some world's exposition. 

In the Louvre are many of the pi(5lures 
which every boy or girl knows. Well- 
known masterpieces of Titian, Raphael, 
Van Dyke, Rembrandt, Rubens, Murillo 
and Fra Angelico make one agree with 
Marie Corelli, that the old masters took 
their secret of colors away with them. 

I astonished my English friends by an- 
nouncing that I did not like Dickens, and 
now ril shock my Holland friends by not 
liking Rubens. 

One should get catalogues of both the 
Louvre and Luxembourg galleries. 

If you can make time see Cluny, Gui- 
met, the Musee des Religions, the Musee 
Gustave Moreau, the Musee Cernuski — 
almost wholly oriental, — the Musee Brig- 
noli-Galliera, the magnificent display of 
stained glass in the Sainte-Chapelle — this 

144 



FRANCE 

on a bright, sunshiny day, — and that most 
wonderful of modern paintings on the 
wall of the large amphitheatre of the Sor- 
bonne University done by Puvis de Cha- 
vannes. 

The best manner to see the Bois de 
Boulogne is to take a boat on the Seine 
at the Pont Royal, stopping at St. Cloud 
and Sevres, and, after an hour of exquisite 
rest amid the dreamland on either side, 
disembark at Suresnes, cross the bridge, 
and walk back to Paris through the forest. 
We took the earliest morning boat. As 
it chanced to be the day of the Bataille des 
Fleurs, we spent some time viewing this 
beautiful scene. We stopped frequently at 
little cafes for tea or rest, and six o'clock 
found us at the Arc de Triomphe hailing 
a cab to take us home. It was fatiguing, 
but in no other way could we have seen so 
well the splendid woods and the glimpses 
of family life among the bon bourgeois. 

The day you go to Notre Dame, cross 
the Pont d'Arcole, and that brings you 
right into the gardens of the Hotel de 
Ville, which is beyond doubt the most 
magnificent palace of justice in the world. 
Its decorations rival those of the Louvre. 
The entrance, the galleries, the ballroom 

145 



BY THE WAY 

and the banquet hall are splendid beyond 
description. The ceiling decorations are 
all by noted artists, and represent some 
type of Plenty, Music, or Love. It is 
marvelous, the art these French have put 
into their architedlure. 

The crowning delight, that of a visit to 
the tomb of Napoleon, awaits your week's 
end. The tomb is in the crypt under the 
Dome des Invalides, a home for old sol- 
diers, and is reached by walking through 
the gardens and long, cloister-like passages 
of the Invalides. As I entered, my eyes fell 
on an immense altar, through the amber 
window of which a flood of golden light 
poured on a colossal cross, lighting the 
face of the bronze figure of Christ nailed 
to it, making a most dramatic pidture. 
This figure was cast from one of Napoleon's 
cannons. 

The tomb itself is a large marble basin, 
over the edge of which you look down 
onto the sarcophagus cut out of a huge 
block of reddish-brown granite. It stands 
on a mosaic pavement, in the form of a 
laurel wreath, and around the walls are 
twelve colossal statues representing the 
twelve vidories. 

^ ^ ^ ^ ¥r ¥: 

146 



FRANCE 

" I wish I had been born either rich or 
a hod-carrier ! *' The very idea of a woman 
of my parts counting centimes I Instead of 
telling my friends how to come on the 
least money, I'd rather say. Wait — until 
you have millions to buy the dainty con- 
fedlions with which Paris abounds. It gives 
me heartaches "to look and smile and 
reach for, then stop and sigh and count the 
aforesaid centimes T From this you have, 
perhaps, surmised that we have been going 
over the pros and cons of shopping — prin- 
cipally the cons, 

«■ * * * * «3S- 

How foolish of me to tell any one not 
to come to dear, mad, wild, glorious Paris ! 
Why, rd come, if only to remain a day, 
and though I had nothing to eat for a year 
thereafter. 

Last night when I wrote, I was "way 
back at the end of the procession," but this 
morning I am " right up behind the band." 
And the reason ? Never ask a woman so- 
journing on foreign shores for a motif. 
There is but one that, far from those she 
loves, makes or mars the pleasure of be- 
ing, brings the sunshine or the cloud, reg- 
ulates the pulse-beats of her very existence, 
and that is — A LETTER! 

H7 



BY THE WAY 

I have not told you. For some days I 
have had no word, hence my lowly posi- 
tion of yesterday. But on this bright, 
beautiful morning I found on my break- 
fast tray a packet of many-stamped, much- 
crossed and often-forwarded letters. And 
now, although it is raining in torrents, and 
the coffee is — not coffee, — I can see only 
golden words, and those through rose- 
tinted glasses. 

**Ah, what care I how bad the weather!" 
****** 

Mademoiselle D. is here, the guest of 
friends at their country house at Fontaine- 
bleau. The day she was our hostess she 
met us at the station, and we were driven 
through a long lane, flanked on either 
side by immense trees, to the Chateau of 
Fontainebleau. 

No other palace has aroused so keen 
an interest as has the interior of this noble 
old mediaeval fortress, which Francis I. 
converted into the present chateau. In this 
palace are tapestries of rare worth and 
weave, jardinieres in cloisonne, bas-reliefs 
in jasper, masterpieces of marquetry, and 
priceless bric-a-brac, found nowhere else in 
such lavish profusion. 

148 



FRANCE 

Mademoiselle's hostess sent her ser- 
vants with a dainty luncheon, which they 
served for us on the marble steps leading 
from VEtang des Carpes to the water's 
edge. The afternoon and early hours of 
the evening were spent in driving through 
the forest and at Barbizon. 

Oh, the air of artistic Bohemia, the at- 
mosphere of achievement which dominates 
this world-renowned Barbizon ! It does 
not seem possible that the Barbizon of 
which Will Low gives a description in his 
"A Chronicle of Friendships" could have 
remained unaltered since the early seven- 
ties, but it has. Both his brush and pen 
pidures are so vividly accurate, that I 
pointed out many of his old and beloved 
haunts before Mademoiselle had time to 
tell me. Often she would say, "You have 
been here h^^ovQ, n\st-ce-pas?^^ I always 
assured her to the contrary, but always 
added, " I shall surely come again." 

At the very word "Barbizon" the 
thoughts fly back, involuntarily, to those 
painters whose names stand for all that is 
highest and best in Art. Their early life 
songs ran in minor chords, to be sure, but 
the vibrations have lost the pathos, and 
we hear only of the beauty and joy they 

149 



BY THE WAY 

have left behind them for their fellow 
men. 

Every child knows "The Angelus," and 
every lover of the truth in pidlure, song 
or story pauses a moment before the bronze 
face of Millet, set into a rock that lies on 
the edge of this wee village. 

The forest of Fontainebleau embraces 
over fifty square miles, and its magnificent 
timber and pidluresque splendor are not 
surpassed in all France. 

W W w W w W 

We were guests at the American Am- 
bassador's reception yesterday. His house, 
just off the Champs Elysees, is furnished 
with elegance and taste. The gowns worn 
by both the French and American women 
were most of them airy creations of lace, 
many of them gorgeous, all of them grace- 
ful and fetching. Lace is the prominent 
fa6tor in gowns here. 

Refreshments were served from a huffet 
set in one of the drawing-rooms, and gen- 
tlemen, instead of ladies, assisted the host- 
ess about the rooms. 

w w W w W W 

The Bois of Vincennes is a park cover- 
ing some two thousand acres laid out with 
drives, walks, lakes and islands, and while 

150 




BOIS DK VINCENNES 
CHATEAU D'AMBOISE 



FRANCE 

less frequented than the Bois de Boulogne, 
it is fully as attradive. Louis IX. hunted 
in this forest in 1 270, but Louis XV. trans- 
formed it into a park in 1731. 

Fontenay-sous-Bois, an odd little vil- 
lage, is charmingly situated on the edge 
of these woods. We had taken a great 
fancy to the petit gateaux of France, and, 
happily for us, we found them at Fonte- 
nay as good as in Paris. We would stop 
at the old patisserie to get them, on our 
way to the Bois, where we went every af- 
ternoon to write or to study and to hear 
the band. 

Not far from Fontenay is the antique 
al fresco theatre of Champigny where the 
leading adtors of France can be seen dur- 
ing the summer months. 



I 



BOULOGNE-SUR-MER : 

STARTED to Spend a few days at Paris- 
Plage, one of the fascinating seasides of 
France, where is found that rare combina- 
tion, an excellent beach with shade trees; 
but, instead, I stopped two months at St- 
aples, a little fishing village, about a mile 
from the Plage, with a shady path through 
the woods between the two places. 

Etaples is the old sketching-ground of 

151 



BY THE WAY 

Millais and Whistler, near Boulogne-sur- 
Mer, and is crowded with artists. It is on 
an arm of the sea, when the tide is /*«, but 
when that incomprehensibly weird thing 
is outy it is on a waste of dry sand. Etaples 
is but a short distance from the village of 
Montreuil, with its outdoor summer school 
for sketching. Because of the old Roman 
ramparts which are still standing and be- 
cause of its quaintness and its antiquity, 
Montreuil also attradls a large colony of 
painters. 

¥f ¥f ¥f ¥f ¥f ^ 

I am often asked what foreign language 
I would suggest as most useful for travel- 
ers. I answer unhesitatingly, " French ! " 

French is taught in the schools of every 
nation save our own, and it is spoken 
by every educated foreigner. Whenever I 
could not ask for what I wanted in the 
language of the country, invariably I was 
asked by host, "boots,** or with whom- 
ever I was gesticulating, — 

^^ Parlez vous Fran^ais? " 

The study of French is a subjedl to 
which every parent should give serious 
consideration. No nation is so under- 
languaged as ours ; and no language is so 
necessary to a traveler as French. It helps 

152 



FRANCE 

one with his own language and adds an 
interest and enjoyment to intercourse with 
our foreign cousins ; while without it, we 
stand mute and helpless and ofttimes be- 
wildered, and advantage is taken of our 
seeming stupidity. 

Study English first and always, and 

polish it by the study of French. 

* * * ^fr * * 

In spite of the fa6t that Boulogne-sur- 
Mer is full of English pleasure-seekers, 
we spent restful, happy days there in a 
pension which occupies an old monastery. 

BLOIS: 

Do YOU recall how Athos of "The 
Three Musketeers" fame was con- 
tinually reminding D*Artagnan that the 
"purest French in all France is spoken in 
Blois" ? And it was because of my inter- 
est in Dumas's heroes that, when the time 
came for me to visit the chateau country 
I made Blois my home. 

I am unable to pass upon the "purest 
French," but I can assure you that I watch 
in vain for the polished Athos, or the reck- 
less, dashing D'Artagnan of former days. 
I did^nd the youthful Aramis — but not at 
Blois. This one was en route to Waterloo 

153 



BY THE WAY 

The only time I feel inclined to forgive 
Henry James for the unkind things he 
has said of my countrywomen, is when I 
read his French sojourns and recall his 
advice that the best economy is to stop at 
Blois first when on a visit to this fascinat- 
ing region. 

If you desire a unique experience and 
would have entree as a parlor boarder to 
the fashionable school for demoiselles^ go to 
Blois armed with letters from the president, 
the king or emperor of your fatherland. 
Fortunately, the day I arrived with my 
credentials, two English girls had been 
called home, and when at last I was per- 
mitted to matriculate, I had their room 
alone, with windows giving on the terrace 
and the Loire. 

I fell into line with the rules of the in- 
stitution, and studied, recited, walked out 
each evening chaperoned by one of the 
mistresses, and took my holiday every 
Thursday with the other students. 

Sometimes I asked and was given per- 
mission to add Friday and Saturday to my 
holiday when I wished to stop longer than 
one day at some of the old chateaux. I 
always returned, however, proud that my 
Chateau of Blois was the finest of them all* 



FRANCE 

The Chateau of Blois was eredled on a 
colossal foundation, both strong and high^ 
but the castle itself is light and graceful, 
with its wonderful staircase and court of 
Fran9ois I. I used often to take my book 
to the little park in front of the chateau 
and sit for hours — not reading, but gazing 
at the old castle and dreaming of Brage- 
lonne and Louise. 

* * 45- * * * 

The Chateau of Chambord is counted as 
one of the finest specimens of the Renais- 
sance in existence. Here is found that 
wonderful double spiral staircase so ar- 
ranged that one can go up and another 
down at the same time without each seeing 
the other. 

If your time is limited, make up a 
motor party and visit the Chateaux of 
Cheverny and Beauregard on the same 
day you go to Chambord, returning by 
the Valley of Cesson. In the same man- 
ner — that is, from Blois and by motor — 
visit Amboise and Chaumont. Both can 
be explored in one day. Both overhang 
the Loire, and both teem with history and 
beauty. 

Make Tours your headquarters from 
which to visit the chateaux of Touraine. 

155 



BY THE WAY 

Some one has said: "Normandy is Nor- 
mandy, Burgundy is Burgundy, but Tou- 
raine is France." It is the home of Balzac, 
Rabelais, Descartes, chateaux, books, beau- 
tiful women and romance. 

We lived in an old chateau on Rue de 
Cygne. You may have a suite of rooms 
and keep house, if you wish, and Madame 
will find you an excellent bonne; or, you 
may simply have lodgings and dine where 
you will. 

Tours is a good place in which to spend 
an entire summer. From there should be 
visited the chateaux and towns of Chinon, 
Azay-le-Rideau, Montbazon, Loches, and, 
last, the exquisite Chateau of Chenonceaux 
with its lemon color. It recalls Venice, for 
it is built on piles in the River Cher. 

MARSEILLES : 

FROM Tours to Paris, from Paris to 
Geneva, to Aix-les-Bains, to Turin, to 
Genoa and the French Riviera — such was 
our somewhat roundabout route to Mar- 
seilles. 

It would be difficult to imagine a journey 

filled with more magnificent and varied 

scenery and with more of romantic interest. 

We have climbed up and around and 

156 



FRANCE 

over the Alps, following the gorge of 
the upper Rhone. For nearly a day we 
threaded the mountains, their tops veiled 
by the clouds. Scarcely ever were we out 
of sight of a leaping cascade or a pictur- 
esque village perched high above, or far 
below us, except when rushing in and out 
of the countless short tunnels. Of only 
less interest was the crossing of the Apen- 
nines from Turin to Genoa. 

From Genoa, we have traversed the 
Riviera by train, tram, carriage and on 
foot — from the Promenade d' Anglais at 
Nice to the famous Corniche road between 
Nice and Monaco. 

On a Sunday afternoon at Monte Carlo 
we had our tea on the terrace of the 
Casino to the accompaniment of a sacred 
concert by an exquisite orchestra on the 
one side, and the sharp click of the 
croupier s rake in the gambling salle on 
the other. 

Amidst such bewitching surroundings — 
the balmy air, the profusion of flowers, 
the towering Maritime Alps, and the blue 
Mediterranean at the feet — one can easily 
fancy oneself in an earthly paradise. 

You have, of course, read much of the 
principality of Monaco embracing its eight 

^S7 



BY THE WAY 

square miles of territory, with its op^ra 
bouffe government, and how, surrounded 
by French territory, its independence has 
been recognized for several centuries. It 
is needless to tell you, too, of the gambling 
carried on in its Casino, hedged in by 
every external element of alluring culture 
and refinement. But, I dare affirm that, 
apart from its gambling, Monaco is one of 
the enchanted spots of earth. The Cote 
d^AzuTy as this coast is afifedtionately 
named, haunts me still. 

Have I mentioned the masonry of this 
region ? All through the Alps, the Apen- 
nines and along the Riviera are massive 
walls of masonry, supporting a mountain 
road, forming the graceful arches of some 
viadud: or holding back the mighty waves 
of the sea. Much of this work was com- 
pleted by Napoleon I. Coming, as I do, 
from a younger civilization, its magnitude 
appears marvelous to me. 

^ w w w ^ 45" 

Marseilles is a place about which the 
casual traveler knows but little, and yet it 
is one of the oldest and most important 
seaports in the world. So long ago as 600 
years before Christ, the Greeks sailed into 
this natural harbor and made it " master 

158 




VALLEY OF THE RHONE 
CORNICHE ROAD BETWEEN NICE AND MONACO 



FRANCE 

of the seas." Marseilles carries on a large 
oriental trade, which accounts for the fancy- 
dress-ball appearance of its quay and streets. 

Then there is the Cannebiere. 

Do you know what the Cannebiere is? 
Well, it*s a street, or, rather, three streets 
in one, each with a double row of trees 
meeting in an arch overhead, and each of 
these rows of trees flanked by broad walks 
which are formed into open-air cafes, 
served from the hotels and restaurants 
which face them. Here the multitude 
gathered from all nations may be found — 
quite the most cosmopolitan of my experi- 
ence — and here we have our tea each 
afternoon. 

All European cities have open-air cafes, 
but none of them can duplicate the Canne- 
biere. The Marseillaise are very proud 
of it, and have a song which runs : 

** Si Paris avait une Cannebiere, 
Paris serait une petite Marseilles." 

(If Paris had a Cannebiere, it would be a 
little Marseilles.) 

Those who named the streets in Mar- 
seilles must have had their share of senti- 
ment and romance. One of them is named 
^^Rue ParadiSy^ and its principal shop is 



BY THE WAY 

called ^^Paradis de Dames T Another rue 
is named ^^Pav^ d* Amour y* which doesn't 
quite harmonize with the odor of the favor- 
ite dish, bouillabaisse y of which Thackeray- 
wrote. 

The Chateau d'lf, made famous by 
Dumas's " Monte Cristo," is on a barren 
rock which rises out of the sea within 
sight of the harbor of Marseilles. 

The chateau was, until recently, a po- 
litical prison, and many notable men have 
been confined within its dungeon cells. It 
is now kept for the inspedlion of tourists, 
and one is shown the inscriptions carved 
on its begrimed walls by Edmond Dante 
and the learned Abbe Faria during their 
fourteen years* imprisonment in cells where 
daylight never penetrated. 

"Sfr W TS" w w w 

If time should hang heavily on your 
hands at Marseilles, go to Aix-en-Prov- 
ence — not that there is anything especial 
to see at Aix except the quaintly rural 
landscape, nor yet anything especial to do 
except to taste the calisson^ an almond cake 
of which Aix holds the secret recipe. But, 
go! It is in the going that your time will 
be ^;;hung. 

The tram leaves from the Vieux Port, 

1 60 




CHATEAU D'lF 
ALMERIAf SPAIN 



FRANCE 

and if you go down at the hour advertised, 
just place a book or your top-coat on a 
seat to reserve it, and then go to get your 
grand dejeuner^ to take a nap, or to shop, 
'returning at your leisure, and you'll have 
ample time. 

. Local freight is carried on a little trailer 
car, and the car is moved alongside the 
freight that has been dumped in the 
middle of the street near the track. This 
looks so easy that before the car is loaded, 
it is moved a half block or so, and the 
freight is carried to the new location of 
the car and again dumped on the ground. 
After this operation has been repeated 
several times, the ludicrousness of it all 
dawns on one, and turns the tears of anger 
caused by the delay, to laughter. 

It really seems as though some of these 
foreign cousins of ours endeavored to do 
things in the most difficult way. 



i6i 



w 



ISCHIA 

So ivatted I until it came — 
God"*! daily miracle^ — oh^ shame 
That I had seen so many days 
Unthankful J ivithout ivondering praise. 

Lowell, "At Sea," Fireside Travels. 

CASAMICCIOLA: 

'HAT slaves of sentiment we mortals 
are! Here I am at Ischia again — 
Ischia that has been enshrined in our 
hearts for years! And yet it is not the 
enchanted island of our younger dreams. 
Will the memory of that first visit ever 
be effaced? Can you not recall, as though 
it were yesterday, how our hearts beat 
when we found the invitation to dine at 
the old castello on a promontory of Ischia? 
How we donned our spotlessest white, 
and boarded one of the smaller craft that 
plies between the island towns! How we 
threaded our way through the myriad of 
boats which crowded the Bay of Naples ! 
How fascinated we were with everything, 
from the fairyland of islands to the old 
captain who would lean far over the rail 
and scold at people coming to meet the 

162 



ISCHIA 

boat, if they were late, and yet who would 
stop his boat anywhere to take them on 
board ! How even the rain that threatened 
to undo our spotlessness seemed part of 
the scheme, and how, when the wind 
arose and the waves ran high, you declared 
we would not go ashore like the common 
herd! How, when we arrived at our desti- 
nation, the young officer got the biggest, 
whitest and cleanest of the rowboats around 
to the sea-side of our ship, avoiding the 
crowd which was filling the boats on the 
other side. 

Will you ever forget the great wave 
that drenched the officer as he stood at the 
bottom of the ladder trying to steady the 
smaller boat that I might leap in, and, 
after we were pushed off, the feeling of 
helplessness at tossing on that mighty sea 
so far from shore? How the old oarsman 
stopped in the roughest part, demanding 
his fare, and after you had paid him, in- 
sisted, like Oliver Twist, on more ! How 
you shook your fist at him, balancing your- 
self in that frail craft, and cried, "v^Z/^z/" 
and how he alleged before that fist ! 

How the handsome young Ischian had 
sele6ted me as his signorind s guest! How 
his frank eye inspired confidence, and I let 

163 



BY THE WAY 

him hand me into the wee phaeton; and 
how we started up the mountain, wonder- 
ing all the while! How he seemed to 
remember something, stopped the pony- 
bedecked with ribbons and feathers, and 
gave me a note which proved my confi- 
dence was not misplaced and that he was 
our hostess's coachman! How he showed 
us the old castle from each vantage point, 
proud to be serving the beautiful signorinay 
and bubbling over with joy at our evident 
admiration ! 

All this is changed. The old castle still 
stands out, white and clear cut, with the 
blue Mediterranean beating on three of 
its sides, but the sunshine has flown. 

No smiling mistress in silken robes, no 
Roman servants, no coachman of polished 
bronze were here to welcome me now. The 
great hall with its wealth of marble re- 
mains, but the objets d^arts brought from 
every corner of the globe are gone, and 
all the warmth of heart that comes from 
loving hospitality is missing. My hostess 
of former years has been wooed away. 

•56- * * * % * 

Let not my musing, however, deter any 
one from coming to Ischia. Situated at 
the northern extremity of the Bay of 

164 



ISCHIA 



Naples, as Capri is at its southern ex- 
tremity, it is at once unique and romantic. 



W 



ON SHIPBOARD : 

E SET sail from Marseilles one eve- 
ning as the autumn sun was sinking 
behind the distant Alps. Cruising along 
the Riviera and the rugged coast of Cor- 
sica, on the second morning we were close 
to Italy's shore with the environs of 
Naples in the misty background. 

We remained in port three days, living 
on the ship the while. A drive to Posilipo, 
the never-ending panorama of Neapolitan 
life, and the day at Ischia, about which I 
told you in my last letter, filled the time, 
and at midnight of the third day we 
weighed anchor for home. 



I 



ALMERIA: 

T IS to be regretted that the big packet 
of letters which awaited me here, full to 
overflowing with questions, could not have 
been received earlier. The twelve hours 
of unexpedled waiting caused by the de- 
layed sailing of the ship will give me, 
however, an opportunity to answer a lim- 
ited number. You will receive this letter — 
one of you at least — -before that happy 

165 



BY THE WAY 

day when I shall set foot again upon my 
native land. 

Does it pay to come abroad for a short 
time? 

It pays to come for a day. The ocean 
voyage is compensation in itself. Nothing 
broadens one's life like touching the lives 
of others. 

And did request me to importune you. 
To let him spend his time no more at home. 
Which would be great impeachment to his age 
In having known no travel in his youth. 

Shakspere, Tivo Gentlemen of Verona^ 
Act I, Scene 3, Line 13, 

Is it worth while, before coming, to read 
about the places one intends to visit ? 

It is more than worth while! It is 
necessary! That which one will compre- 
hensively absorb during any journey de- 
pends largely upon what one has read. 
This is especially true of foreign travel. 

The books I have named in my letters 
will be of assistance to you.* 

.V. «, AIL il^ •(, H, 

7? W TT w W W 

And now you ask me to sum up my 
foreign experiences. Your request reminds 
me of the schoolmaster who gave out as 

* See index of authors and books. 

166 



ISCHIA 

the subje(5t of a prize composition, " The 
World and Its Inhabitants." 

In all seriousness, this has been the most 
delightful and at the same time the most 
miserable year of my life. Comprenez-vous? 

They said the stars shone with a softer gleam ; 

It seemed not so to me ! 
In vain a scene of beauty beamed around — 

My thoughts were o'er the sea. 

Longfellow, Outre Mer^ 
Chapter on Pilgritn s Salutation. 

I am not unmindful of all the oppor- 
tunities I have had to see God's beautiful 
world, and I think little has escaped me 
that has been in my line of vision. 

Of all countries, I like England best — 
yes, England! dear, green, blossoming 
England; of all cities, Paris and Florence; 
of all churches, St. Mark's in Venice; 
of pidluresque places, Killarney's lakes and 
the Lake of Lucerne; of awesome grandeur 
in nature, the Giant's Causeway and on 
the heights of Switzerland; of man's work 
in art and architedure combined, Fontaine- 
bleau, Versailles, the Bargello in Florence 
and Raphael's Stanza and Loggie in the 
Vatican ; of colleded art in sculpture, that 
found in Rome ; of colledted art in paint- 

167 



BY THE WAY 

ing, that found in the galleries of Florence; 
of the sublime in nature, the sunsets on the 
Mediterranean, moonlight on the Arno, 
the Alpine glow on the Rigi, and sunrise 
over the Acropolis; of all peoples, the 
upper class of Irish and English. And the 
happiest moments spent among this array- 
were those when reading my letters from 
home. 

I have been treated with charming cor- 
diality everywhere and have met clever, 
cultured people, both foreign and Ameri- 
can. I have seen — and heard — a few 
Americans, the sort whose bragging brings 
the blood to the face, but I am happy to 
tell you they have been few. 

I should advise any one to come here 
with the intention of enjoying and not of 
criticising. If things are desired as they 
are in America, stay there. 

One comes to a foreign country to see 
things as they are, and, most of all, to see 
things which we have not. 

The science of comprehensive observa- 
tion should be taught in every school, for 
few know how to observe understandingly. 

Culture comes high, at the easiest, and 
in no way can one absorb so much or so 
well as by observation while traveling. 

i68 



ISCHIA 
GIBRALTAR: 

QooN after the last letter was posted, a 
•^ note and a cable were handed me by 
the purser. 

The cable was from Ruth announcing 
her marriage and removal to Porto Rico. 
The letter, from Mrs. F. telling of her 
husband*s complete recovery and that his 
business interests were taking them to 
Japan, where they would make for them- 
selves a home. Her hurried notes to me 
have borne only her initials. This letter 
she signed, for the first time, with her 
Christian name — the same as my own. 
The spelling is identical. Odd, is it not ? 



169 



INDEX OF PLACES 



WITH NAME OF HOTEL OR PENSION 

/ rather 'would entreat thy company 

To see the ivonders of the tvorid abroad. 

Shakspere, Two Gentlemtn •/ Verona^ 
Act I, Scene I, Line 5. 

Bring us tohere ive may rest ourselves and feed. 

Shakspere, As Tou Like It, 
Act II, Scene 4, Line 74. 



Abbotsford : 

from Melrose, 28. 
Aix-les-Bains : 

Terminus Hotel, 156. 
Aix-en-Provence : 

from Marseilles, 160. 
Almeria, 165. 
Amalfi : 

St. Catherine Hotel, 57. 
Ambleside : 

Grange Private Hotel, 

26. 
Amsterdam : 

Hotel Viftoria, 105. 
Amboise : 

Hotel du Lion d'Or, 

Anacapri : 

Hotel Vittoria, 56. 
Antwerp : 

New Hotel London, 

109. 



Athens : 

Hotel d'Angleterre, 
117. 

Ayr: 

King's Arms, 33, 34. 
Azay-le-Rideau : 

from Tours, 1 56. 
Azores : 

see Ponta Delgada, 52. 

Bantry : 

from Cork, 40. 
Barbizon : 

Siron, 149. 
Barcelona : 

Mme. de Bergue, 

79 Rambla Cataluna, 

130. 
Belfast : 

Waverly, 34. 
Berlin : 

Hotel Bristol, 135. 



171 



INDEX OF PLACES 



Blarney : 

from Cork, 41. 
Blue Grotto : 

from Naples, 55. 
Blois : 

Hotel d'Angleterre, 

153- 
Bonchurch : 

Bonchurch Hotel, 22. 
Boulogne-sur-Mer : 

Christol et Bristol, 151. 
Bourne End : 

from London, 1 5. 
Bray : 

from Dublin, 44. 
Brigue : 

Hotel des Couronnes et 

Poste, 102. 
Brindisi : 

International, 115. 
Brussels : 

Bellevue et Flandre, 

108. 
Budapest : 

Hungaria, i 29. 

Callander : 

Mrs. Linklater, Kinlock 

Cottage — coach for 

Trossachs, 32. 
Capri : 

Grotte Bleue, 54, 55, 

56, 165. 
Carisbrooke Castle : 

Eight Bells Inn, 22. 

172 



Carlisle : 

Miss Woodrow, 4 Al- 
fred Street, 27. 
Casamicciola : 

Pension Pithecusa, 162. 
Chambord : 

from Blois, 155. 
Champigny : 

from Paris, 151. 
Charlottenberg : 

from Berlin, 135. 
Chateau d'lf : 

from Marseilles, 1 60. 
Chaumont : 

from Blois, 155. 
Chelsea : 

from London, 12. 
Chenonceaux : 

from Tours, 156. 
Chester : 

The Blossoms, 5. 
Chesterfield : 

Angel, 24. 
Chinon : 

Hotel de France, 

156. 
Cologne : 

St. Paul, 106. 
Como, Lake : 

Grande Bretagne, Bel- 

lagio, 89. 
Constantinople : 

Pera Palace, 120. 
Corfu : 

St. George, 115. 



INDEX OF PLACES 



Cork: 

Temperance, 40. 
Corinth : 

Hotel des Etrange, 

117. 
Corsica, 165. 
Cowes : 

Royal Medina, 23. 

Dardanelles, 122. 
Dargle (Dark Glen) : 

from Dublin, 44. 
Domodossola ; 

Hotel de la Ville et 

Poste, 91, 93. 
Dublin : 

Metropole, 42, 50. 
Dresden : 

Savoy, 136. 

Edinburgh : 

Waverly, 29. 
Ellen's Isle, 27. 
Etaples : 



Fontenay-sous-Bois : 

from Paris, 151. 
Frankfort-on-the-Main : 

Hotel Schwan, 135. 
Freshwater : 

Stark's Inn, 21. 

Geneva : 

Hotel des Families, 156. 
Genoa : 

Nazionale, 157. 
Giant's Causeway : 

Causeway Hotel, 34. 
Gibraltar : 

Grand, 52. 
Glasgow : 

Bath Hotel, 29, 32. 
GlengarifF : 

Eccles, 39. 
Grasmere : 

Temperance, 26. 

Hampton Court : 
from London, 12. 



Mme. Geneau, Rue du Havre : 
Rivage, 151. Frascati, 137. 



Fiesole : 

from Florence, 84. 
Florence : 

Pension Jennings-Ric- 

cioli, 37 Corso dei 

Tintori, 80. 
Fontainebleau : 

Pension Viftoria, 148. 



Hawarden : 

from Chester, 5. 
Henley : 

Red Lion, 16. 

Innisfallen : 

from Killarney, 38. 
Inversnaid : 

Inversnaid Hotel, 32. 

173 



INDEX OF PLACES 
London : 



Ischia : 

see Casamicciola, 162. 
Isle of Wight : 

see Ryde, Cowes, 

Ventnor, Freshwater, 

20. 

Keswick : 

Queens, 27. 
Kew : 

from London, 12. 
Kilkenny : 

Club House, 45. 
Killarney : 

Great Southern, 36. 
Kenilworth : 

from Leamington, 8. 

Lake Distrift : 

English, 25. 
Lame : 

Olderfleet, 34. 
Lausanne : 

Beau-Sejour, 103. 
Leamington : 

Manor House, 6. 
Leeds : 

Queens, 25. 
Lido : 

from Venice, 88. 
Liverpool : 

Adelphi, 3. 
Loches : 

Hotel de la Promenade, 

156. 
174 



Russell Square Hotel, 
Whitehall Hotels, 1 1 , 

17- 
Lucerne : 

Beau-Rivage, 93, 103. 

Lugano : 

Splendide, 91. 

Maggiore, Lake, 91. 
Marseilles : 

Hotel de Geneve, 158, 

165. 

Melrose : 

Waverly, 27. 
Menaggio : 

Menaggio, 91. 
Metz; 

Grand Hotel de Metz, 

136. 
Milan : 

Roma, 90. 
Monaco : 

from Nice, 157. 
Montbazon : 

from Tours, 156. 
Monte Carlo : 

Hotel des Anglais, 157. 
Montreuil : 

Mme. Crutel, 152. 
Munich : 

Bellevue, 134. 

Naples : 

Bertolini's Palace, 54, 
55> 57» 165. 



INDEX OF PLACES 



Nice : 

Terminus, 157. 
Norwood : 

from London, 14. 
Niirnberg : 

Goldener Adler, 135. 

Oberammergau : 

Frau Christus Lang, 

Main Street, 134. 
Olympia, 116. 
Orvieto ; 

Belle Arti, 'jd, 78. 
Oxford : 

Micklem Hall, 9, 1 6. 



Portsmouth : 

Beach Mansions, 21. 
Posilipo : 

from Naples, 165. 
Potsdam : ' 

Einsiedler, 135. 

Queenstown : 
Queens, xiii, 42. 

Richmond : 

from London, i 2. 
Rome : 

Pension Michel, via 

Torino 98, 60. 
Rouen : 

Hotel de la Poste, 138. 



Paris : 

Pension, 30 Rue de la Ryde : 
Bienfaisance: Hotel de Esplanade, 21. 

Calais, 137. 



Patras : 

Hotel d'Angleterre, 

116. 
Penrith : 

Waverly Temperance, 

27. 
Piraeus : 

Continental, 119. 
Pompeii : 

from Naples, 59. 
Ponta Delgada : 

The Inn, 51. 
Portrush : 

Landsdown Crescent, 

34- 



St. Cloud : 

Belvedere, 145. 

Salzburg : 

Pension Kaiserin Elisa- 
beth, 134. 

Sans Souci : 

from Potsdam, 135. 

Sevres : 

from Paris, 145. 

Shanklin : 

Royal Spa, 23. 

Siena : 

Pension Tognazzi, via 
Sallutio Bandini 19, 

79- 

^7S 



INDEX OF PLACES 



Simplon : 

Pension Fletschhorn, 

97. 
Skipton : 

Devonshire Arms, 

25. 
Skutari : 

from Constantinople, 

123. 
Slough : 

Crown, 24. 
Smyrna, 120. 
Sorrento : 

CoGumella, 56. 
Stirling : 

Waverly Temperance, 

30. 
Stoke Poges : 

from Slough, 24. 
Stranraer : 

King's Arms, 34. 
Stratford-on-Avon : 

Red Horse, 9. 
Suresnes : 

from Paris, 145. 

Tours : 

Mme. Francois, 27 Rue 

de Cygne, 156. 
Trossachs : 

Glasgow or Edinburgh, 

31- 

Turin : 

Suisse, 157. 



Venice : 

Pension Beau-Rivage, 

85. 
Ventnor : 

New Queens, 22. 
Versailles : 

Hotel des Reservoirs, 

142. 
Vienna : 

Pension Monopole, IX 

3 Garelligasse, 132. 
Vietri : 

Trattoria Rosa, 58. 
Vincennes : 

from Paris, i 50. 

Warwick : 

. Globe Inn, 8. 
Wicklow : 

from Dublin, 44. 
Wiesbaden : 

Villa Rupprecht, 

1 2 Sonnenbergerstrasse, 

136. 
Windermere : 

Mrs. Kellett, Mount 

View, New Road, 24. 
Windsor : 

White Hart Inn, 10, 

Youghal : 

Imperial, 41. 

Zurich : 

Pension Neptun, See- 
feldstrasse, 105. 



176 



INDEX OF 

AUTHORS AND BOOKS 

MENTIONED 



Knoiving that I loved my books y he furnish' d me 

. . . ivith volumes that I prize above my dukedom. 

Shakspere, The Temfesty 
Act I, Scene 2, Line i66. 



Alcott, Louise : home of, 

76. 

Austin, Alfred : reference 
to, 36. 

-A Summer in England : 
issued by Woman's Rest 
TourAssociation of Bos- 
ton, 166. 

Baedeker : a guide-book 
issued for each country 
and principal city, 144, 
166. 

IBell, Lilian : reference to, 

63. 

Besant, Walter : London, 
166. 

Black, William : Hand- 
some Humes ; Strange 
Adventure series, 16, 
166. 



Blossom, Henry : quota- 
tions from Documents 
in Evidence, 147. 

Boswell, James: Haunts of. 

Browning, Elizabeth B. : 
Casa Guidi Windows ; 
The Dance, 80, 166. 

Browning, Robert : De 
Gustibus ; Old Piftures ; 
Andrea del Sarto ; The 
Statue and the Bust ; 
The Ring and the Book, 
3, 92, 166. 

Bunyan : Pilgrim's Prog- 
ress, The Author' s Apol- 
ogy, iii. 

Burke, Edmund : statue of, 
48. 

Burns, Robert : home of, 
33 ; haunts of, 30. 



177 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND BOOKS 



Burroughs, John : Waiting, 

quotations from, 42, 

100. 
Burton, Richard : Dumb 

in June, reference to, 9. 
Butler, Mrs. : Biography 

of Katherine of Siena, 

79- 
Byron : home of, in Rome, 

75- 

Carlyle, Thomas : home 
of, 12. 

Clement, C. E. : Naples, 
the city of Parthenope, 
166. 

Coleridge, Samuel T. : 
home of, 27. 

Coufopoulos, Demetrius : 
Constantinople, guide- 
book in English, 166. 

Crawford, F. Marion : 
Greifenstein, 166; 
home of, 57. 

Dayot, Armand : Beauti- 
ful Women in Art, 166, 

DeForest, Katherine: Paris 
as it is, 166. 

Dickens : reference to, 1 44. 

Dumas : reference to, 
153, 160. 

Eliot, George : home of, 

76. 
178 



Emerson : English Traits, 
166. 

Freeman, E. A. : English 
Tours & Districts, 1 66. 

Goldsmith, Oliver : statue 

of, 48. 
Gray, Thomas : Elegy, 

quotation from, 24. 
Green, John Richard : 

Short History of the 

English People, 166. 
Grifi, E. : Saunterings in 

Florence, 166. 

Hare, Augustus J. C: 

Walks, in principal 

cities, 166. 
Hawthorne, Nathaniel : 

English, French and 

Italian Note Books ; 

Marble Faun, 63, 74, 

166. 
Homer: birthplace of, 1 2 1 . 
Horton, George : In 

Argolis ; Modern 

Athens, 166. 
Howard, Blanche Willis : 

One Year Abroad, 166. 
Howells : Tuscan Cities ; 

Italian Journeys ; 

Venetian Life ; Silver 

Wedding Journey, 63, 

75, 80, 89, 139, 166. 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND BOOKS 



Hubbard, Elbert : Little 

Journeys, io8. 
Hugo, Viftor : quotations 

from, 137, 139- 

Hutton, Laurence : Liter- 
ary Landmarks, II, 75, 
76, 80, 166. 

Hutton, William Holden : 
Mediasval Constantino- 
ple, 166. 

Irving, Washington : 
Sketch Book, 166. 

Jackson, Helen Hunt : 

home of, in Rome, 76. 
James, Henry : Little 

Tours in France ; 

Portraits of Places ; 

Transatlantic sketches, 

154, 166. 
Jameson, Mrs.: Early 

Italian Painters ; Art 

Legends ; home of, in 

Rome, ']6, 166. 
Jonson, Ben : haunts of, 

30- 

Keats, John : home of, in 

Rome, 74, 75. 
Kingsley, Charles : 

Westward Ho, 166. 
Knight : Through the 

Wordsworth Country, 

166. 



Knox, John : haunts of, 
30. 

Loomis, L. C: The Index 

Guide, 166. 
Longfellow : Outre Mer, 

quotations from The 

Norman Diligence and 

Pilgrim's Salutation, 

II, 139, 166. 
Low, Will H.: A Chron- 

icle of Friendship, 

149. 
Lowell, James Russell : 

Legends of Brittany ; 

My Study Window ; 

Fireside Travels, 11, 

162, 166. 
Lytton, Edward Bulwer : 

Last Days of Pompeii, 

166. 

Macquoid, K, S. : Through 
Normandy ; Through 
Brittany, 166. 

Mahoney, Francis: quota- 
tion from, 41. 

Martineau, Harriet : Guide 
to English Lake District, 
27. 

Matthews, Brander : 
Americanisms and 
Briticisms, 166. 

Meredith, George: 
Vittoria, 166. 

179 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND BOOKS 



Meredith, Owen : Venice, 

1 66. 
Moore, Thomas : Vale of 

Avoca, quotation from, 

45. 

Oliphant, Mrs. : Makers 
of Florence ; Royal 
Edinburgh, 80, 166. 

Ouida : A Dog of Flanders; 
Niirnberg Stove, 166. 

Parker, John H. : A. B. C. 

of Gothic Architefture, 

166. 
Porter, Jane: Scottish 

Chiefs, 31. 

Raleigh, Sir Walter : 
home of, 41. 

Ruskin: Stones of Venice; 
Mornings in Florence; 
Seven Lamps, notes on 
Turner and notes on 
Pre-Raphaelitism ; 
Hortus Inclusus, notes 
on piftures in the Royal 
Academy, and guide 
to piftures in the Acad- 
emy of Fine Arts at 
Venice, 80, 83, 89, 
166. 

Sartoris, Adelaide : home 
of, 76. 

180 



Scott; home of, 28 ; haunts 
of, 26, 29, 30, 32. 

Shakspere : home of, 9 ; 
quotations from, I, 82, 
120, 129, 132, 134, 
166. 

Shelley : haunts of, 26, 

. 74» 75- 
Singleton, Esther: Turrets, 

Towers and Temples ; 

Great Pidlures ; Historic 

Buildings, 166. 
Smith, F. Berkeley : The 

Real Latin Quarter, 1 66. 
Smith, F. Hopkinson : 

Well-worn Roads, 108. 
Southey : home of, 26. 
Stevenson, Robert Louis : 

Travels of a Donkey, 

166. 
Stockton, Frank R. : 

reference to, 28. 
Stowe, Harriet B.: Agnes 

of Sorrento, 166. 
Symonds, John A. : 

The Renaissance in 

Italy, 79, 166. 

Tennyson : home and 
haunts of, 21, 39. 

Thackeray: Irish Sketch 
Book ; Paris Sketch 
Book : Cornhill to 
Cairo, 9, 41, ']6y 160, 
166. 



INDEX OF AUTHORS AND BOOKS 



Thoreau : reference to, 

lo8. 
Trollope : Homes and 

Haunts, 1 66. 

Ward, Mrs. Humphrey : 
Eleanor, reference to, 

78, 91- 
Warner, Charles Dudley : 

A Roundabout Journey ; 

In the Levant, 166. 
Whitmg, Richard : 

Life of Paris, 1 66. 



Whiting, Lilian : 

Spiritual Significance, 
chapter on Siena, 79. 

Wiggins, Kate Douglas : 
Cathedral Courtship ; 
English, Scotch and 
Irish Experiences, 166. 

Woolson, Constance 
Fenimore: reference to, 

74- 
Wordsworth : Excursion, 

guide to English lakes, 

26, 166. 



181 



HERE ENDS BY THE WAY, BEING A SERIES OF 
TRAVEL LETTERS WRITTEN DURING SEVERAL 
JOURNEYS ABROAD BY AGNESS GREENE FOSTER. 
PUBLISHED BY PAUL ELDER ©" COMPANY AND 
PRINTED FOR THEM BY THE TOMOYE PRESS, 
IN THE CITY OF SAN FRANCISCO, UNDER THE 
DIRECTION OF J. H. NASH IN THE MONTH OF 
APRIL AND YEAR NINETEEN HUNDRED & TEN. 



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